Franklin Delano Roosevelt's 20-minute inaugural address in 1933 gave us a line that lives in anything but infamy: "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance."
The spookiness of All Hallows' Eve is, ironically, a time to let go of fear. Inhibitions take the night off as adults transform into biblical prophets, superheroes and heroines, zombies, ninjas, presidents, and Muppets.
Fear, though, stockpiles vacation days. Fear is a workaholic. Fear is our biggest rival and it's always looking for a scrap. Gear up if you cross paths today. Bust out your power duds. Unfurl your cape. Trick out your soul and take up the gauntlet because the losses that leave the deepest cuts, the lifelong scares, the heaviest burdens of regret result from the moments when fear wins—when it looks you in the eye and you refuse to meet its transient gaze, distrusting the truth inside of you longing to find its voice: you are strong, you are loved, you matter.