Fear Will Pass

Fear is not the enemy. Fear is a bell. It doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re alive. Fear shows up when something matters. When something is unknown. When something inside you is stirring. Zen doesn’t ask you to eliminate fear. It asks you to stay with it. To breathe into it. To listen. You don’t conquer fear. You don’t outsmart it. You don’t “heal” it into silence. You bow to it. You say: I see you. You say: You’re welcome here. Because fear, like pain, is part of the human experience. And your practice is not about perfecting the human experience. Your practice is about staying awake inside it. We’ve been taught to treat fear as a problem. Get rid of it. Push through it. Reframe it. Medicate it. Spiritualize it away. But what if fear wasn’t something to fix? What if it was something to feel? What if your fear was wise? What if it was the part of you that’s still tender, still paying attention, still invested in being here? You don’t need to fear fear. You just need to stop running from it. When fear rises, stay soft. Stay present. Don’t try to impress it with your strength. Don’t try to control it with breathwork or mantras or man-made bravery. Just stay. Let your heart race. Let your stomach twist. Let your palms sweat. Say: This is what fear feels like. And I am still here. Fear will pass. That’s impermanence. But while it’s here, it’s your teacher. It’s not blocking your path. It is the path. I’ve sat in fear. Real fear. The kind that shakes your body without permission. The kind that rises in the middle of the night and tells you everything is falling apart. And I’ve learned: The moment you stop fighting it, it softens. Not because you won, But because you stayed. Staying is the practice. Not defeating. Not transcending. Staying. Fear isn’t the enemy. Fear is the bell. When it rings, don’t flinch. Bow. Say: Thank you. I’m still alive. I’m still here. I’m still breathing.