It was a nice weekend chez Basically Unemployble. We had a couple of dinner parties and were invited to a party on Saturday night, which, yay! Parties!
I met up with an old favourite, who flirted outrageously with one and all. Which was lovely.
But thinking back on some of the conversations I had over the weekend has left me troubled a bit. Because they were about fear. About how dangerous a place the world can be. Travel is dangerous because foreigners might kill you. Food is dangerous because, well, you could get sick. Or maybe you just won't like it, which for some people, is just as scary.
And when I try to say that, no, actually, the world is not that dangerous, that people the world over are basically good and kind and will look out for you if you get into trouble.
And food, well, is to be enjoyed. Period.
I say these things and I get looked at like I can't possibly know what I'm talking about and we just reach an impasse because I know I can't change their thinking and I certainly don't want to change mine.
But. Have these people been attacked, mugged, robbed on their foreign travels? Nope. Have they ever nearly died of food poisoning? No again. They just worried about it. They read a story somewhere and remembered a time when they were in a situation that could maybe have led to them having Bad Things happen. They worried. And continue to worry. And they let that worry build into fear that thickens around them, making their world smaller and smaller and smaller.
Disaster strikes. Or it doesn't. And you can either be afraid, or you can stay open to life.
I know I prefer fearlessness. I prefer a life of risk and adventure that, yes, may be cut short during one of those adventures.
But is sure beats leading a narrow, constrained life.
How about you? Fear or fun?