Straight ahead, over North Philadelphia, I can see bolts of lightning coming down to earth almost parallel to the lighting bolt in Naguchi's sculpture at the foot of the Ben Franklin bridge. My legs, sandals, feet get soaked while others, standing calmly without protection, get soaked completely. We are like that. The thunder is intense, cracking directly over head as if one could expect a lightning bolt to land right there at our feet. The rain is intense, it floods the streets which are like little rivers along the edge of the curb.
Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.