At an early age I decided that I would not allow fear to limit my life. Two phrases have accompanied me through the years, and I have repeated them to myself whenever the shadow of fear threatened to prevent me from breaking through the barriers of my comfort zone.
The first phrase is from Dune, by Frank Herbert, and is part of the Bene Gesserit wisdom imparted to the young Paul Atreides by his mother:
‘Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death…’
These words have great potency. When I repeat them to myself in the face of fear, an inner strength flows through me, my shoulders straighten, my spine lengthens and I go for it… I have great gratitude to Frank Herbert for giving me these words.
The second phrase is the title of the seminal book by Susan Jeffers
‘Feel the fear and do it anyway.’
I have no memory of ever reading this book, maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. However, the title says it all, and has been another guiding light on my path through life.
We all feel fear. The mark of a heroine or hero is that they will act regardless of the fear they feel. When we allow fear to paralyse us, we become smaller, we shrink and our world shrinks with us. When we stand up and face the fear demon we grow, we walk into the light of courage and self-assuredness, and we discover how the world is on the other side of our self-imposed barriers.
Facing our fears and taking action is immensely liberating, and opens us up to the blessings that life is offering us.
When I was seventeen, I hitched around Europe with my best mate, Victoria. We had a small amount of money, immense faith in ourselves and great enthusiasm for life. Our adventures included: swimming in the warm salty water of the Mediterranean Sea in St Tropez, (the first time I had ever swam!); a banquet in a remote mountain monastery in the Italian Riviera, being abandoned in the same mountains because I refused to marry the handsome Italian who had taken us there; and seeing the glory of the snow-peaked Alps on a full-moon night.
We face many fears in the course of our lives. I can clearly remember the feeling of walking into a crowded space, where everyone seems to know everyone else, and feeling immensely alone. That is a big one, and I am so relieved that now I can calmly enter any space, feeling self-assured and relaxed, and start up a conversation, or simply enjoy my own company.
The first time I was asked to speak publicly I was terrified, and yet determined to overcome the paralysing fear, ignore my clammy hands and hammering heart and speak my truth. It has taken some time and a lot of patience for me to feel at ease behind a microphone, and now I really enjoy the rush of energy that fills me when I share my stories. The best advice I ever had is to imagine the butterflies in my stomach in formation, supporting me as I speak, bringing their energy to my words.
Each of us has so many treasures to offer our world: music, dance, stories, poetry, art, kindness, wisdom, love, company, support, skills. Why would we let fear trap us in our safe, constricting shells?
Does it matter if we fall flat on our faces sometimes? Or if we fail abysmally?
I sometimes ask myself what is the worse thing that can happen, and when I’ve looked that square in the face, it doesn’t seem so bad after all.
There is a teaching in the Shiva Sutras that I really love, and which I often reflect on:
Nartaka atma, rango’ntaratma
Shiva Sutras, The Yoga of Supreme Identity: Sutras 10-11, translated by Jaidev Singh.
The essence of this teaching is that we are all the supreme Self, acting out our roles on the stage of life.
We play the parts of daughter, wife, mother, teacher, friend, student, writer, critic, speaker, lover, artist, dancer, dish-washer or shop assistant, yet essentially, we are consciousness.
Who is looking out through our eyes as we play these various roles in our lives, and interact with others playing roles?
Who are we really when we drop the mask?
I wonder if Will Shakespeare read the Shiva Sutras?
His words in As You Like It echo the wisdom of the Shiva Sutras:
All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women, merely players.
And so, we dance merrily on, facing our fears, playing our parts in this miraculous journey called life.
What have you always wished you had the courage to do?
What is stopping you?
Can you imagine yourself doing it?
May you bravely step forward into your next role.
With love,
Josie
Summer of Substack Essay Festival
Week Six: Clarity
Reading this, I find myself, first, celebrating the way you've been able to create your own unique life and voice, and how courage to follow your heart has made it possible. The relationship between courage and love--love of life, love of being, love of Self, shines through your words.
Second, I'm reflecting on my own evolution with fear. It was perhaps in my college years, when I began to learn to recognize a certain distinctive kind of fear--the kind arising when faced with something I wanted to explore and grow, but that I didn't at all feel equal to. Showing up with a couple of poems, the first I'd ever written, at the office of a famous writing teacher at college hoping for a place in his class; he looked at them, gave a sort-of appreciative grunt, and then asked, "you've been writing for a while? These are examples of what you've been doing?" I nodded yes, he welcomed me to the class, and I left his office in panic--what had I just gotten myself into?
Over and over, I've learned to move into that kind of fear--whether for an adventure, a task, or into committing myself finally to marriage (a moment of sheer terror!). There is also another kind of fear--the fear of doing or saying something that really isn't right for me, maybe because it just doesn't feel right, or maybe it feels like something I feel I should want to do...but in my heart of hearts, I don't, and fear arises as a warning. And it hasn't always been easy to tell the difference between these two types of fear.
Going around Europe at 17 must have been a great experience of freedom and growth. And you found your own way back from the mountain. Great points on fear too Josie. Giving in to it really holds us back.