The Smell of Fear

I stood on that sandy surface next to the rusty old swing set on the playground of that Catholic School.  Second grade recess consisted of innocent games of kissy chase, informal weddings and a simple fascination of climbing higher and higher on that archaic swing set.

A bee once landed on the bridge of my nose during recess.  Like the brave hero I've always believed myself to be, I ran around in a circle like a dog chasing his own tail; screaming as loud as I could.  The bee just sat there;  It was as if it was taunting me; letting me know he was boss. 

Sister Daphne calmly approached me; mumbled some words of comfort and if I'm not mistaken, she said, "The power of Christ compels you".  I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or the bee.  Eventually, that little weaponized insect flew off into the distance; stinger intact.

That might have been my first experience with fear.  They say fear causes paralysis.  I have these dreams sometimes where I am being attacked and in my dread, my need to scream for help, the words won't leave my mouth.  I'm screaming but no sounds are occurring.  I suppose paralyzing fear is more of a metaphor and I say that because in my extreme sense of fear of that bee, I was doing the exact opposite of standing still. 

I kind of liked my one year of Catholic school.  This was all due to our uniforms.  Mom couldn't afford fancy brand name clothes for me so wearing that green plaid button up shirt with dark pants just like everyone else made me feel as rich and as poor as everyone else.  In second grade, there are plenty of ways of expressing your own individuality without resorting to superficial measures like clothes.  And to make matters even better, I lived so close to this school, I simply walked to and fro every single day.  No one had to see or hear the banana colored muffler-less car that was the symbol of my mom's financial struggles.


Fast forward.  Skip the eight years of Christian school and three years of college.  Fast forward through my twenties where I had the best friends a man can have and learned many lessons of unrequited love.  Fast forward through my early thirties where I learned about addiction.  And death.   And being co-dependent.  And failure.  And success.  Even a small degree of wealth.  And more addiction. 

Fast forward through those late thirties where I learned about unconditional love.  Fast forward through the sharp double edged sword of being dumped and the pieces of a glass heart strewn recklessly in front of my face; only to be glued back together when a second chance was ultimately my reward. 

Fast forward through all those years because fear was not a part of my daily routine.  Worry, concern; none of that even truly existed in my well insulated bubble.  If ignorance is bliss then bliss is a mirage of delusion.  Those who prefer well insulated bubbles are the ones who will learn about the true meaning of paralyzing fear later on. 

Here I am in my early forties; feeling as young as I ever have.  Despite those moments of jaw dropping horror like when I'm watching Forrest Gump and realizing it was made 20 years ago or when I heard the Karate Kid was now 52 years old... despite those moments where I am reminded that my calender is quickly running out of days... despite the random gray hairs that occasionally appear out of nowhere... despite all of the fear that consumes my entire day, I feel more alive than I ever have. 

If knowledge is power and if that knowledge elicits fear, then I dare say, fear is bliss.

I was standing in my front yard late this afternoon fumbling through my mail.  A lonely old bee buzzed around my head and then for about 15 seconds, it seemed to be suspended in mid-flight.  Eyes to eyes, we just stared at each other. 

"It's your move, Mr. Bee", I bravely thought as my heart started beating faster and faster. 

It was a staring game of sorts.  Me versus bee.

I won't lie.  It was second grade all over again.  I was scared to death.

But I've learned something throughout the years... Rather than letting fear envelop me, I embrace it.

I looked at the bee and realized it wasn't even an inch long.  It's jagged little stinger was smaller than my fingernail.  So, considering this new math that I was accounting for, I stood there frozen; waiting for the bee to leave.  A paralysis of sorts, I suppose. 

I won the staring game.  The bee flew off and then, I ran into my house like a little girl.

They say bees smell fear.  I am certain they do because we as people, also sense fear in each other.  The difference is with bees, if they use our fear to unleash their jagged little stinger on us, they die minutes later.

Maybe, next time I see that bee, I will just let him sting me.