On Fear

By Erika Rae

Memoir

I must not fear. 
Fear is the mind-killer. 
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 the fear has gone there will be nothing. 
Only I will remain.

– The Bene Gesserit Litany against Fear / Frank Herbert’s Dune

It is a couple of days ago. I am driving in my Jeep down the mountain road from my house. The sun is shining. The aspens are twinkling. On the side of the road, little sprigs of wildflowers are glowing yellow and purple in the sun. With the exception of the unfortunate necessity for the use of fossil fuels, it is all very Zen.

I must not fear.

I have everything I need. Fresh air, warmth. Anna Nalick is breathing holistically through the speakers. Through the seatbelt, my giant whale belly pokes comfortably. I sip occasionally at the latte my husband made me before I left and replace it in the cup holder beside me.

Fear is the mind-killer.

I am thinking about how everything is going to be OK. In spite of the normal life troubles; in spite of the financial strains. Any day now I will face the all-consuming pain of bringing formidable life into this world and all of the responsibilities that act entails…and I am not afraid.


Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

I will be a ticking time bomb, or perhaps more accurately, a ticking water balloon – poised to explode dangerously without warning all over carpet upholstery mattress freshly polished bank floor …and I am not afraid.

I will face my fear.

I will be doubled over with pain, internalizing an agony so deep and indescribable that it will find its way out in the form of primal grunts and groans, well befitting a Scottish torture chamber circa 1650… and I am not afraid.


I will permit it to pass over me and through me.

At some point, I will be led to a large tub filled with warm water, in which I will be obliged to attempt to push a human being through a space the equivalent of a cantaloupe through a nostril…and I am not afraid.

And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. 
Only I will remain.

There will be the breathless moments in which we all watch and wait for that first cry. Will the baby breathe? Will the baby be healthy? Will the baby have the appropriate number of appendages at the ends of appropriate numbers of limbs?

I am not afraid.

Fear is the mind-killer.

Driving alone in the car, I breathe deeply of the fresh mountain air. Everything is going to be OK. I take another sip of coffee and pause in my self-congratulatory thoughts as I detect something rough on my tongue with that last sip. I reach up to extract and hold it in front of my eyes for examination.

It’s a dead spider. Drowned in sweet, milky brown elixir.

…and what do I do?

I freak out.

I am such a chicken shit.