fear is the rust of action

i haven't posted here in awhile. here is something from two sundays ago.

I was down at the river, under some trees with my boots on the snow. I keep thinking about Anna Mae Aquash. Images hang around inside my head. I spent hours yesterday, reading one thing after another about her and all kinds of related things. It hasn’t left my mind. Anger and sorrow but also happiness and hope. Sometimes it’s a cold, barren place that is floating around in my head, these thoughts and images that won’t leave. But this is where I have arrived this afternoon, as I stood in the snow and looked at the darkening sky—more than any of that, more than a lonely road and fear and sorrow there is hope, there is love, there is courage. She was so brave and she never gave in.

I was reading something a few days ago….‘dull repetition is the rust of sacred verses; lack of repair is the rust of houses; want of healthy exercise is the rust of beauty; unwatchfulness is the rust of the watcher.’

As I thought about all these things I had been reading about and feeling, something else crept into my mind. Fear is the rust of action. This is what I am thinking about. She knew this. I never knew her. But this, her way of living, her refusal to let fear stop her, will never leave my mind or my heart.