And again I write:

"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"


I wrote something about this last year. But I think I disagree with myself. Or maybe more correctly, I think that I misinterpreted what was really being said. This is not about being afraid, or terrified, or scared. At least not physically. This is about fear. The emotion. The thing that people run from all the time. The state where nothing else seems real or profound. Fear.

I am reminded of a Taoist idea. "The easiest way to move up a river is not to fight the current and swim upstream, but to simply stand still and let the river pass you." Did you ever try to walk on a windy day? I used to hate trying to get from point A to point B with the wind whipping at me all the time; chilling me through my clothes. But then one day, instead of ducking and shivering, I simply put my head up and let the wind slap me in the face. And I wasn't cold anymore. I felt invigorated: alive.

This way of treating fear strikes me as the same way. Don't run from it, nor hide nor cover up. But stand and face it, and like the river or the wind it will do all of the work passing you by. And only you will remain: alive.

The Editor's Note in the UGA Newspaper today began with the following line. "I don't remember Challenger." Well I do.

But only a handful of people seem to. Other than Megan being born, the Challenger is my first real memory. I mean I have a handful of memories like snap-shots. I picture here, a moment there. From growing up around my family, or at church, or at preschool. But an actual memory; with movement and sound; Challenger is the second. And it is certainly the first memory that I have of anything that wasn't in my imediate life. January 28, 1986.... I guess I would've been 4 at the time. I was at Grandmama's house that day. I don't really remember why. But I do remember that we were about to start watching Sesame Street when there was an interruption. The news came on and, although I have no real recollection of what was said, I do vividly remember the pictures, the video of the shuttle launching and then exploding.

I guess that even though I remember the actual event, I was still far too young to extrapolate any real meaning from it. The only way that I found to connect with the explosion was through one of the astronauts. I don't at all remember her name, but I remember that she was a Teacher. I was able to feel that huge blow to the country, if only by nature of the fact that I, too, had a teacher.

The point of the article in the Red and Black today was that no one of our generation is in any position to know what kind of slump NASA is about to go through, since we weren't aware of such things 17 years ago...... but honestly, who cares about that. With a freak accident, several people lost their lives. That should be the story, not some dip in NASA's productivity. I find that, at 21, the best response I can still come up with is my first one.

"She was a Teacher.....[we too, have] teachers."