“You gain strength, courage and confidence
by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face.
You are able to say to yourself,
‘I have lived through this horror.
I can take the next thing that comes along.’
You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”
Eleanor Roosevelt

I love these words so much. “…look fear in the face.” They give me focus, help me know what to do when the fear comes. Instead of hiding or pretending, I can calmly stop, look it in the face, let the feelings surge, and when they settle, decide what to do next.

My friend Jane, from creating-sparks, describes this moment as, “The deep assurance that no matter what happens, we (our souls, our inner person) are OK, we will be OK.”

Rooted in that deep assurance, we can then move past fear, and do the hard things and the good things and the scary things and the wonderful things.

I thought through fear a lot on my solo camping trip this month. I looked it in the face as I hiked through the woods, identified where it was coming from, and found the truth I needed to replace that fear with love.

I’ve found those looking-fear-in-the-face moments are not solitary events. For me, they’re daily, often small moments, that can grow mighty big mighty fast if I don’t stop and look.

Fear of financial difficulty, fear of loneliness, fear of looking foolish, fear of failing, fear of not understanding, fear of being misunderstood, fear of not being loved. All those little fears that can unsettle us if we don’t take a moment to look them in the face, sit quietly with them until they lose their power, and then start walking again.

It made me smile to think about how hiking is simply choosing to take one more step. One more step around this boulder, over this log, across this stream, and before long I’m discovering beautiful places and experiences that I never would have without taking one more step.

I loved exploring Crows Nest National Park. Even though it’s less than a couple of hours from the farm, I’d never been there before, and had no idea what to expect.

The early parts of the trail weren’t too exciting, just broad, dusty trails meandering through airy forest, with lots of tiny wildflowers underfoot, and wee finches flitting from bush to bush.

Then I took a side track, and discovered a beautiful area of serene pools and sandy banks, tumbling boulders and thickly forested hills.

It was so peaceful there, only the gentlest trickling of water and the wind sighing through the trees.

The sun was hot, warming the vegetation so I was surrounded by smells of pine and eucalyptus and unknown foliage.

I loved clambering along the banks, always keeping a weather eye open for snakes, basking in the soul-nourishing stillness and sultry summer heat.

I walked slowly, stopping to take pictures of the fingernail size flowers underfoot in brilliant blues, purples, and oranges.

I lingered as long as I could, soaking up beauty and stillness, but at last the lengthening shadows reminded me that there were more steps to take, a mountain to climb, a campsite to set up. So I trekked back to my car, stopped to chat with one of the Old Ladies of Courage, and headed for the Bunya Mountains.

I was ready for my next step.