I used to be afraid of failure. Okay, I still am, but I’m becoming increasingly comfortable with fear’s presence in my life, and I now welcome fear as an essential ingredient for growth and expansion.
A dear friend recently ran the Boston Marathon, beating her personal best by an astounding seventeen minutes just a month before her 43rd birthday (that’s Dana above, coming down the home stretch at the race). I share this with you not only because I’m so proud of and inspired by her, but to illustrate the powerful fuel that can be harnessed from our fears.
Fear was abundant on so many levels for my friend leading up to the race. Dana had natural apprehensions about being at the race one year after the horrific bombing that forever changed many lives. Those apprehensions were further heightened by the presence of the most important people in her life, her husband and their two children, not to mention countless fellow runners. Layer on top of that a challenge from her running coach to go for a previously unfathomable race goal, and there was sufficient fear to paralyze any normal person from leaving the starting block.
My friend, Dana, proudly wearing her Boston Marathon medal.
Yet Dana knew something greater was calling. The marathon represented an opportunity for her to entrust her fear to faith, to act on her deep knowing that everything would turn out just fine. She had to do this for something far greater than she knew in that moment but she first had to surrender her fear in order to move forward.
When Dana recognized this and let go, the fear miraculously disappeared as though a higher power had taken the burden off her strong but human shoulders. All sense of time dissipated as she became one with the Earth beneath her pounding feet and Divine spirit flowing around and through her. She felt light as air, and before she knew it, she was crossing mile marker 23 to cheers and screams of race supporters lining the course. Dana was right on the money to achieve her time goal, an impressive 3:20:23.
When Dana recounted her experience to me, she gave me the priceless gift of being a mirror to reflect to me that fear itself is not to be feared. It’s an opportunity to reaffirm our faith that we are loved and held by a far greater power.
When we surrender our fears, we clear the way to allow ourselves to be and do far more than ever possible with fear clouding our vision.
Several weeks ago, I decided on a whim to apply to a prestigious writers workshop. For an aspiring writer, this was the equivalent of trying to qualify for Boston without having ever before run a race.
Something told me I needed to summon the courage to put my writing out into the world as I hadn’t done before, to share the first chapters of a book I’ve been writing, but there were many stories running through my head as to why I couldn’t do this. Your writing isn’t good enough. No one will want to read this. The book isn’t even done. My test was to quell those voices and act in spite of the fear, to act from my heart and not my head.
After submitting my application, I thought this would be my own well-kept secret. If I didn’t tell anyone I’d applied, then I wouldn’t have to share the outcome if I wasn’t accepted. Yet my heart yearned to tell someone, so I confided in a few trusted close friends. Each lauded my courage and thought the act of applying was in and of itself great.
I learned last week that I didn’t make the cut, and there was a notable absence of shame. I also had no regret about having told my friends even though I’d now have to tell them I didn’t get in. I was astonishingly unattached to the outcome and hoped my friends would feel the same.
As I told each one and reassured them of my peace with it all, they responded with as much pride as though I’d gotten accepted. Their recognition of my effort to go for it rather than focusing on the result created a safe space for any outcome. Through their loving encouragement, I grasped that it was never about the workshop itself.
It’s all about feeding my calling to write, to believe unequivocally in and act on my very mission in this life. It was a lesson in learning to release my fears and charge ahead.
When we feed our faith and starve our fears, anything is possible.
