Distinguishing Fear from Excitement
They feel similar physically. Mentally however, one is threatening and the other invigorating.
I walked one day past a decade old park in the neighborhood staring at the WW1 canon perched ominously atop the hill. I continued onwards to the convenience store in search of smokes. On my way back I looked into the park seeing benches barely used and paths grown over with grass having rarely felt the touch of human feet. Fear hit me in the face. Excitement pounded in my chest. Oh Good God I said, walk into the fucking park. I walk fast to a bench. Sit. Do nothing. Not breathing… Dammit. Switch benches.
I jaunt to the central most bench, perch my bag up as a pillow and lay down telling myself not to leave this park until I feel safe. Safe from what? The zooming cars to one side or the giant scary ROSE bush beside me. Sitting up I take the packaging off my smokes and dig through my bag for a light. I put my pillow back in place, lay down, legs relaxing with feet firmly planted on either side of the bench. I puff. I inhale, exhaling smoke rings.
This bench is of hard concrete, aged over the past 10 years. It would sit two comfortably in any direction as it has no back, no arm rests nor corners. A bent oval like two hands facing each other joined at the wrist reaching in opposite directions flattened for sitting.
I put the cigarette out. I turn to my side. Seriously this fear has got to go away. I look at the cars declaring I hate them for being noisy. I flip to the other side now facing the hill of grass. I smell roses. The noise stopped. I rolled on my back and stared at the sky. I watched the clouds, lifted my legs up, bent them feet to bench and closed my eyes.
The moral of the story:
Always stop to to smell the scary roses.