Unlearning Fear

l think we fear the ocean because it asks us to be fully known. It’s not the size of it, really. It’s the thought of losing the edges we’ve used to protect ourselves. Being seen means no hiding behind the journey, no explaining the bends in the road, no rehearsing who we are before we arrive. Like the river, I’ve learned every turn by heart. I know how to move quietly, how to stay narrow, how to survive without being noticed. But the ocean doesn’t ask for survival. It asks for surrender. And maybe fear doesn’t disappear when we feel ready. Maybe it fades when we finally step in and realize we were never meant to disappear, only to become more than we’ve been.