Fear Is Loud. Love Is Quiet, Present, and Aware.

Last week, fear was loud.

It showed up in my state — not as a shadow, but as a violent act. I was hiking in Boulder the morning it happened, out on the trail, soaking in the beauty of Colorado and letting the rhythm of the land call me back to presence. An hour after I finished my hike, fear was on the news, in my body, and in our community. A tragedy spurred on by anger and fear.

Then came the fallout, the headlines, the weaponized politics. Leaders using tragedy to create fear and division — not to unite, not to heal. That made something inside me ache. It also made me angry, but as I sat with that anger, I realized… this was just more of the same. More fear. More noise. More fueling of outrage for power’s sake. I don’t want to be part of that cycle. I know that anger — especially when it’s used to divide — is just fear in disguise. We all have a choice. We can join the noise, or we can return to presence. We can feed the fear, or we can choose love. This doesn’t mean we stay silent or do nothing. It means we choose the energy we act from. We can speak truth, set boundaries, and push for change — without becoming what we’re trying to transform.

“Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

I know fear — personally and professionally. I coach people through it, and I’ve spent a lifetime learning how to walk beside it without letting it run the show.

In my early years, I lived with a father who was consumed by fear. Fear of others. Fear of love. Fear of society. Fear of himself. That fear came out as anger, addiction, and abuse — emotional and physical. It shaped the way I understood safety, connection, and trust. It taught me early that fear doesn’t always look like trembling,  sometimes it looks like control, like rage, like silence so loud it echoes.

I’ve spent parts of my life with fear in the driver’s seat, letting it dictate how I showed up, how much I trusted, and how far I allowed myself to go. I’ve felt the kind of fear that whispers, you’re alone. There’s not enough. You’re not enough. Fear that makes you tense your body, brace against life, and forget what matters. But over time, I learned how to walk beside it instead. To hear it, honor it, and keep going anyway. That shift didn’t happen overnight. It took deep inner work to move past the kind of trauma I experienced in childhood — to rebuild trust, safety, and self-worth from the inside out. I’ve done that work, and it changed my life — and continues to change my life. And now, I want to spend my life helping others with their work — because I know what’s possible on the other side of fear.

Here’s the thing I keep coming back to: Fear is loud. But love is quiet, present, and aware.

Love doesn’t shout.Love doesn’t dominate.Love doesn’t react.Love is brave.

Love is what helps us stay open when it would be easier to shut down. It’s what lets us mourn without blaming. It’s what keeps us grounded in our shared humanity when the world feels like it’s unraveling.

And yes, the political backlash, especially from leaders using it to further divide, is profoundly upsetting. It’s hard to watch people weaponize suffering.  I believe however, that we don’t have to mirror that noise. We can choose another way.

Whether it’s on a hiking trail, in a coaching session, or sitting quietly with your breath, there is always a place to return to your center. To listen for the deeper truth. To move from love, not fear.

Want to cultivate that kind of grounded presence in your own life?

I’d love to walk alongside you.

If this spoke to you, feel free to reach out — you can DM, email, or text me to start a conversation.

Let’s talk about where you are, what you need, and how coaching might support your journey.