I listen to podcasts several times a week, usually about spirituality or personal development.
Lately, I’ve heard interviewers say something again and again:
“People are so afraid right now.”
They are?
I don’t relate.
Permit me to explain. 😂
I’ve never considered myself a particularly fearful person.
Oh, I’ve had fears.
Believe me.
You will not catch me on a roller coaster.
I think I’ve been on one two or three times in my entire life, and I have absolutely no intention of ever doing it again.
The idea of having my stomach somewhere near my mouth while my body hurtles through the air completely beyond my control is not my definition of entertainment.
Afraid?
Absolutely!
Flying in an airplane, on the other hand, has never frightened me.
I think flying is magical.
I’ve been afraid of showing people my true self.
I’ve been afraid of filing my taxes. Yes, really. 😂
I’ve never been afraid to act silly in front of people.
I’ve never been afraid of politics. I’ve simply never been particularly interested in politics.
I’m an artsy person.
I’m a people person.
So I’ve never lived my life thinking of myself as someone who is afraid of everything.
But about twenty years ago, I learned something about fear that has stayed with me ever since.
Oh, No…
I attended a five-day program called Enlightened Warrior Camp.
The purpose was to teach us, among other things, how to act in spite of fear.
One day, our group walked out of the hotel and came around the side of the building.
And there it was.
A gigantic trapeze structure.
Not some cute little playground trapeze.
This thing looked as though somebody had borrowed it from a very large circus.
It was high.
And immediately, we knew.
Oh, no.
We’re going up there.
I remember looking at it and thinking:
If I can do this, I can do anything.
So I did.
I completed the assignment.
And when it was over, I felt as though I were standing on top of the world.
I had been afraid.
And I had done it anyway.
But another exercise taught me something even more valuable.
The Tightrope
On another day, they took us to a high tightrope.
We had to cross roughly fifty yards on that rope.
High above the ground.
We were secured at the waist, so if we fell, we weren’t going to plummet to the ground.
That made it safer.
It did not make it less scary.
😂
Above us was a short hanging rope that we could barely reach. That was essentially what we had to steady ourselves as we made our way across.
And at the far end was a target.
An actual target, like the kind used for archery practice.
Before we started, they gave us one instruction:
When fear comes, put your entire focus on the target.
Not on the ground.
Not on how high you are.
Not on the rope beneath your feet.
Not on whether you’re going to lose your balance.
The target.
So I started walking.
I could hear people below encouraging me.
And then fear came.
I could feel it in my chest.
So I did exactly what they had told me to do.
I looked at the target.
I put all my attention there.
And I kept moving.
Whenever fear returned, I brought my focus back to the target.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until eventually…
I reached the other side.
And something that had looked almost impossible from the ground had actually been much easier than I imagined.
I Never Forgot That Target
That experience happened about twenty years ago.
I still use it.
Not on tightropes, fortunately. 😂
In life.
When fear appears, I remember that target.
And I ask myself:
What am I looking at?
Am I staring at everything that could go wrong?
Or am I looking at where I want to go?
Because those two places create very different experiences inside me.
If I continually imagine failure, rejection, embarrassment, financial disaster, loss or everything else that might happen, fear gets bigger.
I’m staring at the ground beneath the tightrope.
But when I bring my attention back to what I want to create…
Something changes.
The fear loses some of its power.
False Evidence Appearing Real
There’s an acronym for FEAR that I’ve always liked:
False Evidence Appearing Real.
Of course, not all fear is false.
Fear is part of our survival system, and sometimes it is telling us something very important.
If a car is speeding toward you, please don’t stare peacefully at a target and contemplate your personal growth.
MOVE!
😂
But much of the fear that keeps us small isn’t warning us about immediate danger.
It’s warning us about uncertainty.
You’ve never done this before.
You might fail.
People might judge you.
What if you make a fool of yourself?
What if it doesn’t work?
Our minds are very good at trying to keep us safe.
Stay here.
Stay where things are familiar.
Don’t take the chance.
Don’t say the thing.
Don’t make the change.
Stay safely tucked away in your nice little box.
Safe.
Predictable.
Controlled.
And perhaps increasingly small.
Growth Is Outside the Box
The problem is that almost everything interesting happens somewhere beyond the edge of what we already know.
Growth requires us to reach a new limit.
A new space.
A place we’ve never occupied before.
Of course we’re going to feel something.
We’re leaving familiar territory.
But maybe the question isn’t:
How do I get rid of fear?
Maybe it’s:
Where do I put my attention when fear appears?
That’s what the tightrope taught me.
I didn’t need fear to disappear before I moved.
I needed to stop making fear the most important thing in my field of vision.
I needed to look at the target.
Start Small
You don’t have to begin with a fifty-yard tightrope.
Please don’t. 😂
Start with something small.
What would you do if you weren’t quite so worried about what might happen?
Make the phone call?
Go somewhere alone?
Show somebody something you created?
Speak up?
Ask for what you want?
Say no?
Say yes?
Apply for something?
Try something you’ve always secretly wanted to try?
Choose one.
And notice what happens inside you.
Your mind may immediately produce a list of reasons why you shouldn’t.
Fine.
Let it talk.
Then ask:
Where is my target?
What do I actually want?
Look there.
Take one step.
Then another.
As you practice doing small things in spite of fear, you begin discovering something extraordinary:
You can trust yourself outside the box.
Then perhaps you take a slightly bigger step.
And another.
Until one day you look back and realize your world has become much larger.
Is It Really a Risk?
Sometimes we call these things risks.
And yes, occasionally they are.
But I’ve begun to wonder whether many of the things we call risks are actually invitations.
An invitation to discover something about ourselves.
An invitation to grow.
An invitation to reach a new height in our lives.
An invitation to become more fully alive.
Will everything work out exactly as we hoped?
Of course not.
Sometimes we’ll wobble.
Sometimes we’ll turn around.
Sometimes we’ll fall—and discover that we can get back up.
But I find that infinitely more exciting than spending my life inside the little box of what is considered safe and normal.
I want to know what’s out there.
I want to know what’s possible.
I want to know who I become when I take another step.
So when fear shows up—and it still does—I don’t need to fight it.
I don’t need to pretend it isn’t there.
I can simply say:
I see you.
And then…
I put my eyes back on the target.
Because fear may be allowed to come along for the adventure.
It just doesn’t get to choose where I’m going. ❤️