So what’s with all this talk about fear anyhow?

A lot of friends contacted me directly about my last two posts, asking one of two things:

1. Were you writing about me?

2. What are you so afraid of, anyhow?

I shouldn’t have been surprised by the reaction.  First, because it’s a little taboo to admit that you have real fears.  And second, because all of us – but especially us over-schooled folks who have been rewarded throughout our lives for understanding the rules and playing by them – were taught to internalize fear.  Fear can drive you to get good grades.  Fear can get you into the right schools.  Fear can make you a good employee – for a while, at least.

(And I’m not saying that being terrified gets you success.  I’m saying that staying within the lines – first at school, and then at work – works pretty well in most places for at least a while.  And staying within the lines and following all the rules can teach you to be afraid of breaking out, afraid of putting yourself in a situation where there are no lines or rules.)

So why is fear on my mind right now?  It’s because a friend and great supporter of mine has been asking me to look myself in the mirror and figure out what’s keeping me from that next professional breakthrough.

So what’s my answer?  Since I’m pretty good at explaining things (to myself as much as to others) my first reaction is full of explanations: “Well, it’s because…” I begin.

And there are, to be sure, good reasons.  But if I think there’s a kernel of truth in the question I’m being asked, if I think it’s possible that being more fearless would help, isn’t it appropriate to explore:  How much do I believe these explanations?   Do I believe them completely?  Do I believe I’m acting like I really want to break through (which is different from thinking and saying I want to break through)?  And by acting, I mean structuring all my time and all my days around getting there – and being willing to sacrifice the urgent for the important?

Am I doing a good job?  Yes.  Is what I want to accomplish hard? Yes. Important? Yes.  Worth putting myself on the line for? Yes.

So am I doing everything I could?  No, probably not.

I bet you’re in the same situation: you’re doing a good enough job too.   You want to accomplish hard, important things that are worth putting yourself on the line for.  And you too could do more than you are right now, you could commit and re-commit yourself, and doing so would help you get there.

And if I can pass along the nudge that I’m getting to all of you…    Well then I’ve done my part to give a gift as valuable as the one I’ve received.

So that’s what all the talk about fear is about.  It’s a gift.

Buddhists have a name for the constant chatter in our minds, the reel that keeps playing, pretending to be in the background, talking through our fears – they call it the “monkey mind.”

The monkey mind is the stream from one thought to the next to the next (“what did she mean by that email?…what does she think of me anyway?…I’m not sure I can pull this off…what if we don’t, then what…?…).  But it’s a treadmill – you never get anywhere, never reach any conclusions.

It’s pernicious because it’s pervasive and passive – so you may never confront it head on, and never understand how much it is holding you back.

I’ve found two pieces of advice helpful in taking this on.  The first was suggested by a yoga teacher years ago.  He said, at the start of class,“Take all the things that are worrying you, that are troubling and stressful and on your mind, and leave them outside of class – on the sidewalk.  Just for the duration of class.  I promise you they’ll be there waiting for you when class is over.”

I love this because it’s so practical and it’s actually asking less of us, so it feels possible: don’t stop worrying forever, don’t pretend that you will simply rise above.  Just commit to leaving the worries aside for 90 minutes. By promising yourself that you get to go back to your worries, you discover that it is easier to let go of them.  And sometimes, leaving them aside temporarily can free you from them permanently.

There’s another approach, equally deliberate, which is the opposite of letting go of the chatter: go straight towards the chatter, address the thoughts and take them all the way to resolution.  Instead of letting go of the loop, you break through by moving forward and making a commitment to a resolution.  The circle is broken, and the next time the thoughts start, you have broken the reel, and you’re free.

What if you decided that the one thing you care most about is being less fearful?  If this mattered more than anything else, what would you do?

(I don’t mean fear of real things, like jumping out of planes or off of cliffs or in front of tigers.  I mean fear of doing things you know you want to do and can do and should do…but don’t do).

How many times would you commit to confronting the fearful situation this month?  This year?

How much time would you spend articulating, to people you trust (mentors, friends, spouses, supervisors, your dog), the thing you’re fearful of and why?

Would you write out what you’re afraid of somewhere?  Would you put it down on paper so you could look it square in the eyes, try it on for size, and see how mean and scary it really is (or isn’t)?

Would you start more things?  Would you send them out more quickly?  Would you figure out where you sabotage yourself just when you’re getting off the ground?  Would you discover that you’re the only one who’s convinced you can’t do it?

The first thing, I think, is deciding – really deciding – that you want to be less fearful.

Once you’ve decided that, what would you do?

(For example, would you say, “Yeah, that’s interesting,” and then go on to the next blog you read or the next email?)

I know I would, and will, do more than I’m doing now.

You?