UUs Reflect: “I am passionate about…understanding and overcoming fear.”
Risk & Fear: A Primer for the Not-Brave
Risk is a scary word. It means exposure to the chance of injury or loss; it means a dangerous chance. I don’t know about you, but there are at least five words in that definition that are scary to me. I’m not a risk-taker by nature; I was never the kid who’d climb the highest tree, or the adult who wanted to backpack alone through Europe. Coward is an ugly word, so let’s just call me someone who considers herself not-brave. Here’s the irony, though: at age 50, I may actually have become a reluctant expert on risk.
How? Did someone push me out of an airplane? No, and…yes. Because although I am a generally cheerful and responsible person, I also have chronic anxiety. This means that some days, I walk around flooded with fear for absolutely no good reason whatsoever. Some days, every single thing feels like a risk to me; and I’m not alone.
Human brains, you see, are great big chickens. They are all about self-preservation. They want us to be afraid of taking a risk, and they’re not good at seeing past that risk to scenarios in which wonderful things happen as a result. Sometimes, the human brain will even “help”us (isn’t that sweet?) by looking ahead and telling us some pretty creative stories. The brain will also try and solve or otherwise deal with every dangerous thing that might ever happen to any person in the whole world. The scientific term for this horrifying level of imaginative agony is worry.
Some of our brains are so good at anxiety and worry that it can cripple our ability to feel peace and joy. I live this scenario, so I want to share with you what I’ve learned.
MY THREE RULES OF FEAR
To be human and deliberately take a real risk means ignoring that powerful urge we all have that says, “No. Remain safe at all costs.” We know that’s got to be wrong, but what can we do about fear when we feel it holding us back from a “good” risk?
One, keep in mind that 99.9% of the time, fear doesn’t do us any good. It lies. Unless a rhino really is charging you, most of the fear you feel is not actually working in your best interest. Just because you feel afraid of something doesn’t mean you have to react with fear. You are actually the one in charge, not your brain’s protection mode. Your brain is very good at painting vivid, bloody pictures of worst-case scenarios and zombie apocalypses. Try to learn to recognize unnecessary, illogical fear, laugh at it, and let it go. Ask yourself: what would Mr. Spock say about this fear? If the Vulcan in your mind has raised an eloquent eyebrow at you in that way which conveys the opinion that humans are primitive idiots, you have your answer.
Two, be aware of this subtle spiritual truth: the opposite of Love isn’t hatred. It is fear. Love and fear cannot dwell together. So in learning to disengage my own toxic anxiety, I don’t ignore it; but I don’t hate it or fight it. I know that Love (yes, Love with a capital L, because we are talking about sacred Love here) and fear are polar opposites. So: I thank my fear for wanting to keep me safe. But I tell it, Look, you’re off duty. That is a fascinating story of destruction you just told me, but do us all a favor: go home and take a nap. Treating my own fear mindfully, with the antidote of Love and understanding, has become an important way for me to find that oasis of calm.
And three, try to have faith that on the other side of your maximum fear is often…the greatest happiness of your life. Think of the terror people describe as they prepare to go skydiving for the first time. The actor Will Smith tells a story about this — and then describes his absolute bliss when he realized he was flying. At that moment, he could only look back on his fear and shake his head at how ridiculous it was. In just a few seconds, he learned that his fear had been totally unnecessary and useless. All it had done was ruin his day.
BRAVE…AT JUST THE RIGHT MOMENT
I don’t even want to try and count the number of days, let alone the potentially happy moments, I’ve missed because of anxiety. I grieve for those lost chances. But I have been made braver by realizing something astonishing: my biggest personal risks have paid off just like that skydiving scenario.
Fourteen years ago, I got brave at just the right moment and decided to have a baby. The natural birth we chose was the hardest physical challenge of my life. Labor picked me up body and soul, turned me upside down, and dropped me off a cliff headfirst. And yet, it was also beautiful and sacred, and it changed me forever. I learned that trust is a choice, and making that choice can make you fierce. I learned that pain you’re not afraid of has much less power to control you. And I learned that fear’s opposite really is Love. Because my fear just didn’t stand a chance against the towering Love in the room where my son was born.
Of course, parenthood, if done correctly, will pretty much destroy – and then rebuild – every aspect of your life. And that’s all right with me; my son is 13 now, and he is the walking, talking, absolute center of my world. If there’s a bigger risk in life than making a new person and then loving them so much that it terrifies you, I have yet to encounter it.
My other big risk has been creative and professional: about five years ago, I sort of accidentally reinvented myself as a designer. I have always loved being a writer, but other people usually took my words and made them “look pretty.” I had been been part of many design projects over the years; I’d done magazine and calendar layouts. I’d taken photography classes. But I cannot draw or paint, so I thought my “good eye” was only useful for personal stuff, like decorating and fashion. Turns out that all that time, I’d been secretly developing a highly marketable skill. (So secretly, I didn’t even know it myself!)
One day, a client in a hurry approved the text I’d written, and then asked me to just please do the layout on a project. Mostly as a favor, I said I’d try, and if the client didn’t like it, no harm done; she wouldn’t have to pay me. I was worried that I was in way over my head and would soon be exposed as a talentless fraud. But you can guess what happened: I jumped out of the plane, my visual creativity chute opened, and I was a designer. It took me awhile to believe this magic would work consistently, mind you. I actually had to repeat the creative jumping-out-of-the-plane scenario a few more times before I got it through my head that I could actually do the job, and people would actually be happy with my work.
As a person who still considers herself mostly not-brave, I know that both my son and my career are here because of risks I chose to take. I had to learn how to consciously hear, understand, and then ignore my brain’s seductive messages of fear and worry. I’m still working on that. Mostly, I just want to live a joyful life in the here and now. But I also hope to be ready to recognize the next right risk when it comes along. Most of us can’t be brave all the time, but the good news is, we don’t have to be. Maybe in order to fly, we simply need the grace to embrace carefully chosen, perfectly timed moments of bravery.
