Fear is the Flashlight

It has been quite a roller coaster these past three weeks. I am reminded as I write that I was a premature baby, born a couple of weeks ahead of my due date. This book, it appears, is much the same! While it isn't formally released until February 20, I have been blessed with lots of activity leading up to that date.

Last week, on Thursday, I had the joy of my first full-length radio interview with the most gracious of hosts, Dr. Jean-Marie Hamel. An international speaker, facilitator, and professor, I am very thankful to have had someone with her level of professionalism and experience to guide me along my first live interview. (You can hear the archived interview from 1/18/07 here, and locate the "Running Home" show in the content library on the left of the screen, dated 1/18/07.)

I certainly admit to be nervous before the show. It had been quite a while since I had experienced that level of what initially appeared as fear. I was reminded of the first time I stepped out on the stage at Royce Hall to speak to an audience of almost 2,000. On that occasion, my entire body had tingled; I felt as though I was riding a canoe on the rushing torrent of my blood as it coursed around my body. I was a little light-headed, and my mind told me that this was just the time to putting my running abilities into action and run out back stage as quickly as possible. In a nutshell, I felt very, VERY, uncomfortable.

Thanks to the powerful skills and tools I learned during my two-year Master's Degree Program at the University of Santa Monica, I was able to negotiate these initially stormy waters by doing absolutely nothing—at least externally. I stood in front of the 2,000 people, in the blinding spotlights, in complete silence for about 20 seconds. Believe me, that is a very, very long time up on a stage alone, to be doing and saying nothing.

And the strangest thing happened. The feeling of discomfort began to shift, to peel away, and something else appeared underneath: a sense of calm, and beyond that, even joy. As I was willing to become comfortable with being uncomfortable, my anxiety melted away, and I connected with the place inside of me that recognized that there is no difference, essentially, between talking to one person and several thousand–unless I tell myself so. In those 20 seconds of silence, I allowed myself to be vulnerable and open. In those 20 seconds, I invited the audience to do the same. and they accepted the invitation willingly. When I read the pieces I had prepared for that evening, not only ears and eyes, but hearts were open to hear them.

In today's culture, and especially for men, there is a strong cultural bias against fear. "No Fear!" is a slogan I see on trucks, t-shirts, SUV's and elsewhere. It is not appropriate to feel fear, it seems. In my experience, if I deny my fear, I deny my greatest opportunities. When i recognized how afraid of heights I had become, I took a trapeze class. When I was frightened of talking in front of larger audiences, I embraced every opportunity to do so that came my way.

Often, what we are most frightened of can also be what offers us the greatest opportunities for growth. it is a flashlight that shines a path on a road less traveled ahead of us. A road that can be a path to greater understanding of ourselves and others. As we become more comfortable with feeling uncomfortable, we discover that, perhaps, it is the fear we have been frightened of, nothing more. As we make peace with fear, we can discover the joy, exhilaration, and excitement that is underneath. We live more fully as a result.

As you run today, consider something that you are fearful of. It could be running a first event; asking for that raise at work; letting someone you care about know just how you feel; or leaping into unknown territory in some other way.

As you run, see if you can bring forward the feeling of uncertainty that you have around that particular fear. Bring it into the transformational energy of your workout. There is nothing you have to do with it, just cradle it in the rhythm of your run. As you run with it, you may even want to talk to it. Allow it to respond, voicing whatever comes forward without filtering it in any way. A great question to ask it can be, "What are you seeking to show me?"

Listen, listen, listen to what it has to say. As you do, you may well find that the fear softens, opens, and something new blossoms. During a run can be a great first time to learn to hold the higher levels of creative energy that are stored under what you have perceived as fear. It may well be that it is not darkness that you have been sheltering from, but Light.