An Unfinished Harvest
There was a time when fear ruled my voice. It was not the fear arising from ignorance. It was not the fear from lack of knowledge. Ironically, my greatest burden was knowing too much and saying too little. For years, I carried within me a vast body of thoughts, of experiences, of questions, and of convictions about life, about humanity, about politics, about justice, about suffering and pain, about faith, about culture, and above all, about the complicated beauty of the human race and existence. In private conversations, words flowed naturally. Ideas connected effortlessly and seamlessly. But the moment an audience appeared, something invisible tightened around my mind and imprisoned my voice. Fear is a strange kind of philosopher. It does not always scream. It sometimes whispers asking dangerous questions such as: “What if I fail?” “What if I forget my words?” “What if they judge me?” “What if my voice trembles?” “What if I am not enough?” What makes fear powerful is ...