Some will tell you that fear is the opposite of love. And in this teaching the war begins.
But love has no opposite. It is whole and without division. Love is the field in which all form comes and goes, including the temporary, wavelike appearance of fear. It is the vast, tender space in which all thoughts, feelings, and sensations arise, play for a short while, and then dissolve.
Just like passing clouds could never taint the purity of the sky, the temporary dance of fear could never stain the majesty of what you are.
Unlike the density of the conceptual, love has no bias for the appearance of courage over fear, multiplicity over oneness, or clarity over confusion. All experience is welcome as valid and as a portal into presence. Everything is path, including the raw, immediate, somatic experience of fear, if it is not abandoned, rejected, and made into an enemy via spiritual theory.
In this embrace, a great mystery can be revealed: there is no suffering inherent in the direct experience of fear, but only in the movement away from it, in its invalidation, and in the conclusion that it is an error which must urgently be remedied.
Fear is a temporary visitor in the nervous system, longing to be known, integrated, and metabolized in the wholeness that you are. It is not an enemy to enter into imaginary spiritual battles with. Call off the war and set aside the pain of a spirituality of aggression.
By pathologizing fear – and concluding that its presence is evidence that something has gone wrong and that you have failed – you attack your vulnerability and keep alive the pathways of self-abandonment.
Love is not opposed to fear, but wishes to embrace it, hold it near, and provide sanctuary for its essence to unfold. Love would never turn from any of its children, including the temporary, wavelike child of fear.
When fully met and safe passage is provided, fear is able to reveal itself, like all other form, as none other than love in disguise. Fear is not the opposite of love, for love has no opposite.