The Cave

I approached the cave opening with the same fear I would feel before entering the darkest chamber of my life.

The cave entrance resembled a slash on the mountain's edge, and I couldn't help but wonder if the hill would cry out in pain as I ventured into its wound.

How had I ended up in this petrifying situation? My own decision seemed strangely malevolent.

The irony wasn't lost on me that we had to climb more than three hundred meters up a mountain before reaching our ultimate downward destination. It felt like we were paying a brief courtesy visit to heaven before descending into hell. We weren't there to confess our sins, however.

We were preoccupied with catching our breath, mentally preparing for our impending descent, and in my case, managing a looming anxiety attack.

Being both claustrophobic and acrophobic, I repeatedly questioned: “How in the world had I put myself in this dreadful situation?"

I cried silently, overwhelmed by fear and shame. My heart didn't just throb – it hammered violently against my chest, turning every breath into a monumental effort.

My senses were paralyzed; nerves felt like they were detonating, emotions colliding in a chaotic mess until my mind went numb. But then, in that defining moment, I confronted it. I looked fear right in the eye. And suddenly, there was nothing — no reason to be afraid. In that realization, I discovered my fearlessness.

The family trip to Canmore's Rat Nest Cave offered more than just an extraordinary family vacation; it provided a profound life lesson. It taught me that fear is an illusion, a mirage I've conjured up from nothing.

Fear is an ungrounded lie I've been telling myself for reasons unknown – and I no longer aim to decipher those reasons. Instead, I choose to embrace the truth: I am capable, and I am willing. Fear is intangible, a non-entity. Simply put, it doesn't exist.

Venturing into the cave, descending around two hundred meters through narrow openings and gaps, my body trembled, and my mind raced. Yet, I felt an overwhelming sense of life in such profound darkness. In what felt like the earth's darkest hole, I was glowing.

Dana Obeid