FEAR IS ONLY OF THE UNKNOWNS
Fear is an interesting paradox — often described as something evil, something to be ignored. We fear the dark, we fear heights, because our survival instincts cannot calculate a secure outcome.
When we are young, we are fearless.
So what changed?
As we enter the teenage cycle of life, our bodies and minds shift. Ambition grows. We feel strong and healthy, ready to do what we want. We begin calculating possible futures and start a new cycle of learning. We emulate certain people and promise ourselves, “I will never be like that when I grow up.” We are told what to do, what not to do, what to wear, what not to wear. We are pushed to imagine who we want to become, influenced by society to see the world as good or evil.
We seek external validation because we are still trying to understand our bodies and what we are supposed to be doing. We calculate every possibility. We learn from the experiences of others and choose whether to follow their path. We forget to live in the present. We analyze the past to predict the best future — but at the same time, we don’t have enough data points to analyze.
We go to the gym to transform our bodies to emulate someone we admire. We go to school to learn information that feeds the dream elders told us about. And then one day, we graduate. We feel proud — everything we worked for finally paid off. And we begin learning about life itself.
We learn our natural cycles without external influence.
We learn the challenges.
We learn that respect is earned, not given.
We learn that we are part of a much bigger cycle of life.
We learn that we are not the only ones with great minds.
And then the question appears:
If there were people we wanted to be like, and others we didn’t want to be like — who are we?
What is our purpose?
Everything we thought we knew feels different. We analyze the results of all the future calculations we made as teenagers. We try to add things up, but they don’t add up. We realize we cannot do everything. We realize we cannot keep every relationship as happy as it once was. What we thought was “I have it all figured out” becomes just a way of coping — not an answer to the feeling of unanswered questions.
At this point, our parents and elders are no longer there to protect us. We are vulnerable. Our survival instinct kicks in. It analyzes the data we have and calculates all the possible unknowns. Unknowns that become fear. We sometimes call them “getting to know your demons.”
We fear because we do not know the outcome.
We fear becoming the person we always hated.
We fear not making it out alive.
We lose trust — in ourselves, in the flow, in the world.
To overcome fear, we need to understand it.
We need to understand ourselves.
Just like when you didn’t know how to ride a bicycle — fear prevented you from enjoying the first moment you felt the wind in your hair. Just like the first time you were thrown into water to learn to swim — fear prevented you from becoming one with the water. But once you became one with it, you felt liberated — a feeling you cannot imagine living without.
It’s like jumping off a zipline — the moment fear releases, liberation begins. The same survival instinct that once held you back now takes you to a new level of survival: a level of controlled trial and error.
“When you succeed, you party. You ponder when you fail. Greatness only comes out of pondering.”
Your survival instinct starts trusting you again because it sees the flow. You learn to trust yourself. You begin counting on your experiences to calculate better outcomes. You see the reward. You start taking risks. You realize that if you don’t take risks, you remain stuck in the same state of mind. You seek new excitements. You seek to be the fearless child again.
You realize the fear instilled in you was simply protection — a desire not to be hurt. You calculated certain realities, and others told you what was “the wrong path.” But you learn your own way. You progress your own way. You take your own risks.
Fear can be overcome by getting back into the flow.
Not by setting rigid goals, but by choosing the goal of returning to harmony.
That goal is instantly rewarding.
It shows light at the end of the tunnel.
It fuels you to move forward.
You begin to see fear as a natural part of life — a warning signal.
You respect it.
You appreciate it.
You begin to love your fear — not to feed it, but to calm it into a predictable wavelength.
You spend more time with yourself.
You learn more about yourself.
You enjoy being with people who help you unravel the mysteries that created turbulence.
Fear becomes less of an enemy and more of a message.
It becomes a signal, a reminder, a whisper from the parts of us we haven’t understood yet.
And when we stop fighting it, when we listen to it, when we let it flow instead of resisting it, fear softens.
It becomes predictable.
It becomes part of the rhythm.
Fear is overcome by trusting the flow.
Fear is overcome by loving yourself.
Fear is overcome by being in harmony with all lifeforms around you.
The calmer you are, the more predictable you become — and the more fear transforms from a barrier into a guide.
It becomes just another experience, another data point, another step in the journey.
And eventually, fear becomes what it was always meant to be:
a teacher that leads you back into the flow.
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