The Long Journey Through Night, V: April’s Coldest Snap

Everything fell into place when my car fell apart. I couldn’t tell you why. I’d been dreading it failing, along with a dread my computer would fail, my lease would fail, my body would fail. Mind you, I wasn’t doing anything about any of that—such is the way fear grips the heart.

And I’d been meaning to ditch the car anyway. But that’s a wonderful exercise in theory, when you’re considering it behind the wheel of your car.

So, when it failed, I shut down. And suddenly the crows and ravens around me were cast into sharp relief. And just as suddenly, my whole symbolic collection settled into a working system again. And the ravens called to me, “Fight! Fight!’ The way a coach would exhort his team to get back up and win the game they were trailing at the half. Fight! The way a father would tell he son to face his fear of trying something new. Fight! The way one must welcome every challenge life throws with aplomb and grace and zeal for the next challenge. Fight! You fight for what you hold dear, fight for your path, fight the sleep to wake up every morning, fight the fear to face your demons, fight your grief to create joy in the life of those you love and who love you.

Sometimes the crows cawing sounded like raucous laughter. Ungentle but not unkind. The sort of laughter a friend gives when you fall on your ass, as they help you back up and slap you on the back. Chiding, maybe. Filial. But always intended and attentive.

And so the car went but my will came back. Whenever that will would start to wane, I heard the call, “FIGHT! FIGHT!” and I’d find myself straightening up, shoulders back, head high and I’d suddenly find the bravery to walk into my fear, with avid anticipation and delight.

So I began to do just that.

Two nights into bouncing back from the car, the nightmare of holding shut a door came back to me. And this time, the two figures outside got in. For the first time in my life. Before I could see their faces I awoke, gripped with fear. But I sprang from bed in challenge. “Next time, I may yet try to keep you out, but sooner or later, I will master this fear and I will DARE you to come in then. I will be waiting and you will find the tables turned that night. If you want that day to come, then let’s have that dream again, right now. I’m waiting.” And I intend to stay ready.