Or maybe it’s really a fear of the ultimate question: “when and how will I die?” I feel a sensation in my shoulders, my arms, and my stomach. Then, I feel a shiver, like the cold of the slopes of Kilimanjaro. It feels familiar. I’ve been here before. I sit with it, feel it, notice it, but then, of course, I start to name it, identify it, categorize it. It’s an anxiety about the future. It’s a regret about the past. What’s underneath? We want certainty, but the only certainty is uncertainty. O...