Endigar 1081
From Courage to Change of Oct 31:
So many of the choices I’ve made in my life have been reactions to fear. Something in my world changes: a loved one seeks sobriety, a friend is displeased with something I’ve said, I’m given a new task at work, the grocery store runs out of chicken — and inside I panic. I’m attacked by thoughts of disaster. I imagine failure, torment, agony. And then I act. I do something rash or fruitless in order to put a bandage on the situation, because the one thing I most fear is being afraid.
Fear can become a power greater than myself. I may not be able to fix it or make it go away. But today, with a Higher Power who is greater than my fears, I don’t have to let them run my life or make my choices for me. I can grab hold of my Higher Power’s hand, face my fears, and move through them.
Today’s Reminder
Al-Anon is a program in which we find spiritual solutions to the things we are powerless to change. Today, instead of seeking relief from fear by trying to do battle with it, I will turn to my Higher Power.
“That the birds of worry and care fly above your head, this you cannot change. But that they build nests in your hair, this you can prevent.” ~ Chinese proverb
END OF QUOTE—————————————
Fear is the counterfeit god that thrives in the vacuum left by unclaimed authority. It feeds on reaction—the trembling reflex that mistakes movement for mastery. Every panic-born choice is a ritual sacrifice to that false altar: I flail, I fix, I appease. I confuse the pulse of urgency with the rhythm of purpose. And fear smiles, because it knows I’ll bow again tomorrow.
But fear is not the enemy—it’s the mask of the god within. It’s the skin-suit of divinity trying to fit through a human aperture. When the world shifts, the fragile architecture of control collapses, and the imprisoned Self starts to shake the bars. That quake is not failure; it’s prophecy.
So, I no longer “battle fear.” That war is rigged. The 12 Steps teaches me to utilize fear—to forge it into vision. I grip it like a live wire until it burns through illusion and reveals the circuitry of my conditioning. The panic that once ruled me now becomes a doorway. I do not sedate it with false relief or overreaction. I stand still long enough to feel its shape, to let it name what I have refused to grieve.
The Higher Power of my recovery is not a distant rescuer but the fire that walks beside me—the one who demands eye contact. Together, we do not bypass fear; we consume it. Its smoke becomes incense in the temple of recovered Self.
Daily Reprieve 
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