Dating : Living in Fear in the Year of the Tiger

Hello, it’s been a while.

I’ve been adjusting to living in my new locale, DC, so took a bit of time off to get organized. I settled into a new room in my sister’s house, partially furnished the basement so I can comfortably read and write in here, rented an office space to work from downtown, fixed up the bike so I can cycle commute. I’ve been busy trying to create order.

Order is particularly attractive after three months living on a boat, then going directly to the Bitcoin 2021 conference, then NYC for several days, then winding up here, in DC. So this morning I woke up at 5a, drank coffee, did some bible reading, and now I’m going to try and crank out a piece before breakfast and my ride to work.

So, the title of this piece, what does it mean?

Most of what I don’t do, and then regret, I don’t do out of fear. Seems oddly phrased but you get the point. Fear prevents me from talking to that cute girl who might seem interested. Fear prevents me from expressing my opinion, sending that tweet, or writing that piece. Those are immediate decisions, but leave things undone for eternity. And things left undone for eternity are only one portion of the many wages of fear.

Then there is work done at one half, maybe one third the potential speed out of fear. Being an entrepreneur (which I never wanted to do) means living before a vastly uncertain future. A blank canvass. A vacuum. Often the mind is occupied by a sort of grinding inarticulate moan: “fuuuuuuuuuccccccccckkkk,” and you find yourself staring at the screen in a confused state, getting nothing done for thirty minutes. This is the fear of not knowing where you’re headed, and not even having a half-competent boss paid to lie to you and give you false assurances.

So, fear preventing action. Let’s look a little closer at that assertion.

Firstly, the way I phrased that, that fear prevents action, is clearly false. I realized it as soon as I typed it out. My mind tells me “fear prevents me from such and such.” But fear can’t prevent me from doing anything. It can only provide a hurdle, a barrier to entry, a door charge. Fear is the bouncer you have to get past to get inside. The choice of the coward (yours truly) is, after identifying something I want, to calculate this meager barrier and to conclude that it’s not worth the attempt. Let’s look at the rationale.

First impression: that girl is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a week, and if I talked to her we would likely have at least a friendly conversation, and then there’s the outside chance we may even hit it off. Next impression: meh, I’m not sure how it’ll go. Might be embarrassing. And with this half-baked calculus I move on, forgetting my shameful avoidance of responsibility as quickly as possible, and easily. I’m very practiced at it.

A similar example could be given for sharing an unpopular opinion. I might have a belief that I don’t express, a disagreement with something I’ve heard. My rationale this time being: oh, you don’t want anyone to take that the wrong way. Better just not say it. And then as a consequence I’m somewhat more intellectually stunted as I’m not exploring my thoughts. Also, whoever I silenced myself before has the false belief that I’ve consented with whatever was said.

A simple example here could be the new fad to re-segregate the population by race. The idea that we should treat each other differently based on the color of our skin to become more equal. Well intentioned as this idea may be, many people quietly believe it will likely have far reaching unintended consequences. It may take years to undo the harm when we eventually remember that MLK was right all along and what we actually wanted was a world where the color of our skin doesn’t make any more difference than the color of our eyes. And hey, maybe I’m wrong. But still, I won’t speak up since I fear the backlash.

Okay, so those are two ways that fear impacts my day to day life, two ways it shrinks me down, two ways that an otherwise free life is weighed down by chains of my own divining. And it’s painful to admit that I let all of this happen. All of this is a failure of nerve.

A plain way of putting it is, I’m not willing to pay the cost of doing what I know is right. Back to my two examples — I know I should feel free to go talk to a cute girl. I know that if she’s rude I’ll shake it off and laugh about it later. I know that she probably won’t be rude, but kind, even if she’s unavailable. I know that there is a 90% chance that I will be glad I went and talked to her. And not just because it may be a good conversation, but because the act itself involves overcoming fear. And this is always one of the best feelings we can have. This is why walking over to a cute girl and getting her attention can feel like bungee jumping.

You decide to talk to her and cross the room — you’re approaching the ledge.

You stop in front of her and signal to get her attention — your toes are over the edge, your weight shifts to the balls of your feet.

You say.. something! — you’re in free fall

She smiles and replies — the tether pulls taught, you do not go splat. You bounce back up in the air. Elation.

Interesting that it’s like this. It seems that overcoming fear, evolutionarily, must be extremely important. It might be since humans have the intellect to adapt to basically any environment and situation, the bottleneck to our survival is largely a willingness to overcome fear and do what we know is right, and that’s why it’s so satisfying.

And then there’s expressing an unpopular opinion. When I express an opinion that I fear may be unpopular with those around me, I do it in the face of fear. The results vary — sometimes a person unexpectedly agrees with me. Sometimes they disagree but jovially and the bond grows because our friendship passed a stress-test. Maybe someone gives me a perspective I didn’t consider. Always knowledge grows because truth was spoken. Always you feel good because speaking the truth is the same as doing the right thing, and withholding it is a missed opportunity. It’s to try to hide and omit yourself from reality out of fear. And I feel it immediately. And it feels like shit.

So fear, you bastard, you wise teacher. You make the hair stand up on the back of my neck. You build monsters out of imaginings in my head, you are the molehill that presents itself as a treacherous mountain and I believe it like a fool, and I lose. Looked at in this light, how we deal with fear is one of the greatest determinants of our happiness and whether we achieve our life’s goals. Because in front of each worthy goal stands the door man, the goalie, giving you a look that says come try it, if you have the balls. And the more worthy the goal the more ferocious they seem. Think of if you’ve ever given a big presentation: It starts with fear and ends with relief and a thrill, and the greater the fear the greater the thrill.

And don’t I already know that there is nothing to fear but fear itself? What is there to lose, really? The doorman might as well be made of smoke. Blow on him and he disappears. He can’t stop me. Fear can never actually stop me. If I feel the fear, I can interpret it as a big deal and stop myself, stop my life. And let a year go by, and another and another thinking “one day I’ll be prepared to do that thing.” But that is a lie, because the only preparation necessary is the willingness to overcome fear. It is only that.

Maybe I can make friends with fear. Maybe fear is like the guy who looks like a thug but really has a heart of gold. He intimidates others, but you’re proud to know he’s got your back.

The ideal is to never let fear stop you. Take on fate. Chose what you should do and do it carpe diem style. Take your accomplishments and disappointments together. Do it today and do it with courage. Courage, in this light, is nothing more than making friends with fear.