As a new writer, I yearn to create my art without fearing what people will think of my creation. Easier said than done, people. After all, isn’t the very purpose of writing for publication is for public to read it? When I press that Publish button, whatever I’ve written is Out There. For all to see. Yikes. Just this morning, I read a blog post entitled Fearless Writing by Bill Kenower from his book, Write Within Yourself: A Writer’s Companion:

“It feels a little selfish not to care what other people think about my writing, narcissistic even. Yet it remains the only way to write something worth sharing with anyone else. After all, what better gift is there to give someone than the knowledge that they are complete as they are? And how might I share this gift unless I receive it first myself? This is how I practice forgetting to be afraid, by returning my attention again and again and again to the gift I wish to share and away from how I dream it will be received.” — Bill Kenower

These wise words embolden me, and I pause to consider: What does it mean to be fearless? In my experience, it is very difficult to simply wish or pray fear away. And even if this were possible, wouldn’t the vacuum that the absence of fear would create simply fill itself with more fear? To be absent of fear, I realize, I must be intentional about filling that space with something different. If I want to fear less, what do I want to be more of? And then, it dawns on me: I can fear less by being more present. After all, isn’t the fear I feel about what will happen (future) when someone reads my writing? By being present as I write, what matters is the birthing of the words that are come to me now. In this moment. We all are artists. We all create be simply being in this world, whether we write, or garden, or care for our families or work hard in our job every day. Do you fear what others think of what you create? In our culture of comparison, it is easy to not feel good enough and to fear what others will think. And so, my gift to you this day: Receive my gift that was created by the filling of present-ness, and in so receiving, know that in this moment, you, too, are enough.