Are You a Player or a Spectator?

I awoke that morning with a ginormous headache, shaking hands, and just about the worst thing one can imagine - the runs. I was prepared - in fact, I was over-prepared. So, why did I feel frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights? As I contemplated what to eat that wouldn’t head straight for the porcelain bus, I waited for the fear to go away, or at least dissipate. But it never did.  

This was the morning of my long anticipated Tae Kwon Do black belt test. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would achieve a black belt, much less have the desire. I had plenty of black belts at home and none required the kind of pain I had experienced over the past 5 years. I had signed up for karate lessons while picking my son up from his. I immediately noticed a bevy of women who were in spectacular physical shape working out in the Dojang (Korean for training studio). Their muscular, toned bodies and familiar curves made me melancholy for mine. I immediately registered. Not for the belt - for the body. My military-style instructor, Mr. V, quickly reminded me that this was martial arts, not jazzercise, which required that I leave my leg warmers at home and master skills more serious than aerobic sequences set to music. It changed my life.

Fast forward to the day of my black belt test. As I sat paralyzed at the foot of my bed, contemplating whether or not I might keep oatmeal down, I realized that I was deeply afraid to fail. 

Scared beyond description. 

And I had the runs to prove it. 

Now that I’m a life coach, I know that fear of failure is universal among my clients. In fact, the more important the task, project, or dream, the more the fear increases. The resistance my clients encounter is often in direct proportion to how deep the fear runs. It’s exacerbated when they are afraid to feel it. In the worst of cases, this can develop into full-on terror. 

My mind was absolutely certain that I could pass my black belt test with flying colors if only I could leave my fear at the edge of my bed. However, I realized how senseless it was to perceive fear as something that must be eliminated in order to move forward. So, instead of being at war with my fear, I surrendered to it.

What I have come to learn is that fear is GOOD. Fear reminds us of what we have to do. The more scared we are of whatever we’re called to do, the more we have to do it. In The War of Art, Stephen Pressfield concludes:

“If you didn’t love the project that is terrifying you, you wouldn’t feel anything. The opposite of love isn’t hate; it’s indifference.”

So, would you rather feel the fear, step into the arena, and take a few blows, or would you prefer to feel indifferent and passively watch from the sidelines?

In other words: 

Do you want to be a player or a spectator?

Fear is not something you ever overcome. As long as you are pursuing your dreams, fear can be as normal to you as the new FDA requirements for traveling after 9/11 - if you stop resisting it. As tedious as air travel has become, it is clearly worth removing most of our clothing, or we wouldn’t still be traveling. It’s the price we pay for getting to our destination safely. 

Try treating fear as though you are traveling to the destiny of your dreams. Stop resisting the idea that the journey should be painless or easy in order to pursue becoming the person you are meant to be. Anything that is worth doing is going to be hard. The alternative is bartering parts of yourself away to the dictates of fear - and that, my friend, is worse fate than a slow death. What is safe about that?

For our sake and for yours, please don’t deprive the world of your gifts, talents or calling because of this insidious thing called fear (and it’s best friend called Resistance). Don’t cheat us. More importantly, don’t cheat yourself. 

I’m happy to say I kept the oatmeal down and passed my black belt test despite my shaky hands and tenuous stomach. How did I do it? I told fear she could come along as long as she was clear that I was the player and she was the spectator. Her job was to sit quietly on the sidelines until I was done. It’s just like parenting a toddler. I then proceeded to put my uniform on, pack my bag, tie my shoes and stuck Fear in my back pocket where she belonged. 

I kicked serious butt that day. 

By the way, I still get scared. But, just most of the time.