Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway?

Brain research from Israel shows that what works best for taking immediate brave action is to disconnect from the fear and do it anyway.

Neuron magazine reports that people watched in an MRI machine could let a live snake closer to their heads if they "dissociated" from the feeling of fear.

"Courage is associated with dissociation of reported fear and somatic arousal." Somatic arousal being the physical agitation: pounding heart, sweat, etc.

In my view, anyone who can let a snake get near them in an MRI machine is already Batman.

But I do find the research potentially very useful to me. Essentially, it is to put the feelings aside. We've all done that, putting an emotion aside in moments when "the show must go on." So everyone knows how. Probably courage is a matter of being conscious and practiced at "not feeling the fear" though we know it's there, rather than being fearless or panicked.

(I'm currently working on putting aside the feeling of being sweat-soaked from a half hour midday walk -- by blogging and carefully placed ice cubes.)








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What's Scary and What Isn't

Different things scare different folks. A bold move for one person is routine for another, and vice versa.

For example, if I tried to take the stand that this bird is so casually doing, I would be bold, indeed. On the other hand, I've done some things that this fellow would absolutely quail at.

My point, punnery aside, is that comparisons, in the case of courage, are not only odious, they simply don't work. Best to avoid comparing ourselves with others in any way.

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Rethinking the Concept of "Being Chicken"

Consider the lovely South African guinea hen. Here's a bird that's actually used as a "watchdog" on farms.

Not that she's fierce. Instead she has a lot to say. She's so attentive and ready to give voice that she can alert a farmer to any little disruption in the night. And warn off an intruder.

Why does this come to mind? My office partner and pal Carrie Knowles made this watercolor monoprint a few months ago while working at The Artists' Press in Mpumalanga, South Africa. (She was in the country advising on strategies for supporting local artists and developing the economic impact of the arts.)

This print is one piece in a show Carrie has just hung at Raleigh restaurant Zely & Ritz. You're invited to the opening on Saturday January 30, from 4 to 6, should you happen to be in this part of the US at that time. Or for more info on Carrie's work, guinea hens or otherwise, she welcomes your questions at cjknowles@earthlink.net.

I intend to remember this bird, even after the print has moved on. If I ever have the self-defeating thought that I'm too chicken to do what I want, I'm going to remind myself that some chickens rule and they don't have to become bears or lions to do it. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise.

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How To Be Bold Now

1. Ride out the stock market situation. Hold on to any investments you have. Trust that the value will come back. It's the gutsy and right thing to do for ourselves and each other.

2. Continue to focus on your work, the substance of it, what you're here on earth to accomplish.

3. Enjoy the feeling of solidarity: for once, we're all in this mess together. And those of us who are artists have some familiarity with money worries; this time the English majors who decided to go to law school instead of being novelists are worrying with us.

4. Spend some time outdoors in the enlivening fall weather.

5. Indulge in some small luxury that makes you feel rich. (I'm personally keeping the Hershey's organization alive.)

6. Give some time or money to the needy. (See The Healing Power of Doing Good by Allan Luks with Peggy Payne.)

7. Campaign. (For Obama.)

8. Pray. Seriously. It helps.




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Handling Fear of Whatever

Inspiring encouraging on-line play-anytime WebTalkRadio.Net interview on managing fear successfully:

Diane Brandon, formerly of Raleigh, now of Tennessee, on her show "Vibrant Living," talks with Jacqueline Wales, Scottish (faint but lovely accent) author of When the Crow Sings and the forthcoming Fearless Factor, as well as being the host of her own radio show, "Fearlessly Speaking."

This not-so-long conversation is a good thing to listen to in a time of dramatic economic crisis.

Wales talks about what she has been through--leaving home at 15, drugs, giving up her three-month old baby, and more-- then facing her fears to have a child many years later.

Both she and Brandon have a spiritual base to their thinking, both referring to a belief in an ultimately (though not instantly) benevolent universe, which can be a great cushion in dealing with fright.

A couple of other thoughts from Wales which I found memorable:

* "Love yourself and watch others love you more" because you're not seeking their approval and reassurance.

*"Fear is our passion dying to get out."

*Be kind to yourself when you're scared. No harsh self-talk.

And more.

What are your tactics for bold living in the current uneasiness?





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Derrida on the Fear of Writing

I'm sure you've heard of Jacques Derrida, inventor of the theory known as deconstruction. Highly controversial guy--a skewed translation of his thinking wrecked a few good English departments for a while there.

His idea--simplistically, that we have no one piece of solid ground to stand on to observe an objective reality (I think I have that right)--was somehow turned into a basis for treating literature as primarily a demonstration of political and cultural assumptions.

Aside from that wild misapplication, this theory is so sound an addition to what we know that it seems like a no-brainer: as if, surely, we always knew that. The name Derrida and the idea itself seem to have been in the atmosphere forever, like the Metropolitan Opera or St. Patrick's Day.

And so I was very surprised to run into Derrida on Youtube, of all places, talking about the fear of writing. The short version is: he is full of fire and conviction while he's writing and full of fear of what he's doing in the moments when he starts to go to sleep. Doesn't seem to have gotten in his way; he's published 45 books.

But it's an interesting version of the experience that most of us deal with in one way or another, well worth listening to. I'm always interested in the kind of conversation between the conscious and the unconscious that he describes. Also,he speaks French (with subtitles) slowly enough to be understood (especially with the subtitles) by a struggling American French-speaker.

Furthermore, I'd sort of assumed the guy was dead. Not a bit. In fact, he seems rather a hottie. So the video undermined at least one of my false assumptions. Who knew the iconic Derrida was cute?



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Courage as a Way of Life

I hesitate to mention this, since it could easily be viewed in a "sideshow" way. However, on this occasion my better instincts are at work, and I'd like to ask you to look at this situation in an empathetic way.

Last night, as I was doing my crunches and channel surfing, I came across on The Learning Channel a documentary on a pair of conjoined twins, formerly called Siamese twins. These girls, Abby and Brittany Hensel are 15; they are two distinct personalities, two people. Each girl has a head and a face and a mind, and otherwise the two of them share one body, each with feeling on her respective side of that body.

At first glance, it didn't seem possible. After watching them being interviewed for a few minutes, my startlement wore off and they seemed to present simply another of the endless million variations on ways to be human, on how to be confident, outgoing sixteen year old girls.

One of the experts interviewed said that the singlets in the world have a couple of important things to learn from those who are conjoined. One is openness to a wider range of human differences, and the other is cooperation. Brittany and Abby have to somehow come to an agreement moment by moment about their every action, and they have to coordinate movements, each of them in charge of one arm. Even so, they manage to drive a car, type email, etc. I can barely imagine the complication and difficulty of that.

Neither they nor their parents treat them as limited. Their friends seem to see them as two regular girls. Anyone who ever felt odd in high school would have to be profoundly impressed by what these girls take on every day and treat as normal life. I'd add a third item to what I can learn, and that is courage as a way of life.



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Fear and Power

The wickedly funny David Sedaris confided to People magazine recently that he'd been "here" for almost fifty years and was still afraid of everyone and everything.

An earlier People profile had suggested that he'd gotten over his fears. "An anxious child, he found an outlet for his energies in high school theater and art programs. 'I thought he'd be a normal kid eventually,' his father observes. It took a while."

In fact, Sedaris has made a career and a splendid body of work out of his anxious responses to the world. (See him on Letterman on YouTube.) Instead of wasting energy fighting himself, he uses his peculiarities, his fears as rocket fuel.

It's a strategy that came to my mind once in an unexpected way. Years ago, I found that night after night when I meditated, Gandhi would show up in my mind and say, "Play Chinese checkers." He didn't respond to questions about why.

Then one afternoon in my office I was in a terrible mood. Employing one of my standard perk-up devices, I left to wander for a bit in a nearby antiques mall. There I saw hanging on the side of a booth an old Chinese checker board, with all the dents for the marbles. A voice in my head said: "Use the obstacles to get where you're going."

At that point I remembered how the game is played. In order to move your marbles to their destination, you have to have an opponent in front of you to leapfrog over. You have to "use the obstacles to get where you're going."

And that's what Sedaris has so brilliantly done.





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Pretend You're Blogging

"In the words of renowned writing instructor William Zinsser: 'Any invention that eliminates the fear of writing is up there with air conditioning and the light bulb.'"

From an article in the Ottawa Citizen on e-mail and texting.

One way to deal with hitting a wobbly moment writing is to pretend I'm simply writing an e-mail. Or a blog post, which almost always seems to fly straight from unformed thought to screen, without hesitation at all.



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Playing a Fear Game

Kim, a student in Perth, Australia, is having a having a bit of banter with her physics teacher in class.

From her blog Scotchkey:

"kim: Well, Mr. L. You see, I have this deficiency complex too. When I'm writing up my labs, I have a fear of writing too much because if I use up all my ink, what's going to happen then? *MrL has previously made comments about the brief-ness of my answers*"

MrL says that this would be to the detriment of her marks.


My point in posting this item: some of our hesitations are just as silly as avoiding writing because we might run out of ink.

I have even had the occasional twinge of actual guilt that I was using up so much pencil lead by doodling that produced no timeless art. This is sick! At least it's no excuse in the wealthy world of bloggers: in Varanasi researching Sister India, I knew an engineer who'd done his math homework as a kid on the margins of old newspapers. That was all the paper he had. That's not the kind of trouble that anyone who reads this is wrestling with.

I have plenty of pencil lead. And Kim can most likely get hold of all the ink she wants.

All we need is to stop making silly excuses and leap into our lab reports, our novels, our Sistine ceilings...



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Anti-procrastination Strategies

Ever had a no-big-deal phone call you needed to make and you put it off a couple of days and then it became near-impossible?

I do it. I see my husband do it. Are we the only ones?

I've read that procrastination is the art of making a big deal out of a trifle. I'm not sure I know the mechanism, but I know I do see items lodge in my to-do lists: again and again on the daily lists, then sometimes for weeks on the weekly list. (Today's daily list on magenta Post-it, week to the right on orange, both stuck to the desk feature called a writing slide, which can thus be pushed out of sight.)

The sure cure is, of course, to do everything immediately. And I'm pretty good about that most of the time. But let anything slip and it's soon in a free fall. Also, trying to do everything immediately obviously can create an unnecessary and tense sense of urgency about everything.

Once I finally mark one of these stuck items off my list, I feel terrific, all-powerful, silly for having delayed. (Maybe that's why I do it?)

Rewards have often worked for me: as soon as I do x, I get to do y.

Also, doing the hard item first is a no-brainer. It's so liberating that I always ask myself why I don't always do it. (Then I think of Paul of Damascus who had the same issue: wondering about why "the good he would do he (did) not." If Saint Paul had to deal with this, I shouldn't wonder that I do.)

So as anti-procrastination strategies, here are some possibilities:

*do it immediately
*do it now and get a marvelous self-awarded reward
*do the hard item first
*get someone else to do it
*discover an underlying reason for avoidance thus making it possible to act or decide not to
*realize that the task was really a bad idea and good sense is saying no
*pair up with someone else who has a long-delayed stupid little task and do them together, then celebrate
*do it in a half-distracted state so that it's done before you know it
*plunge in boldly, like a surfer going out through the breakers, relishing the experience

Other ideas?






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A Model of Creative Courage

From citykitty, who describes herself as an actor and an introvert:

"Screw the fear of writing, I started my book."

Kudos to citykitty!



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The Daily Courage to Write

Whosoever can drive a car can manage any of the risks that art and self-expression involve.

Just think about what's involved in driving, the constant risk, and cars in the opposing lane passing at high speeds only a few feet away. And yet we're unworried enough to talk on the phone, adjust the heat and the radio, and admire the scenery, while we're hurtling along.

I wouldn't think of handling a chain saw--a machine like that? with a sharp blade?--I'm not good at machinery, much too dangerous. But piloting my own speed craft--that I can do in the dark.

What all this signifies to me is that it's a matter of growing accustomed to the practice and the risk. What we do every day --writing, for example--ceases to feel so monumental. The resulting relaxation is good for the imagination, the productivity, and the pleasure in the process.



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Facing Technology With A Stout Heart

In the last two weeks, my printer and phone died, and I had just started the arduous switch to mainly using a new email address and system.

Now, I'm not a complete tech dolt. But neither am I a techie. And taking on all these new systems and gizmos to click and plug and import, etc. is no small thing. It's a bit like walking a plank between two ships on open ocean. The fact that my identity hasn't plunged into the turbulent sea below is already a small miracle.

My progress so far gives me confidence in the way that Outward Bound is supposed to do: if I can sleep in a hammock in a jungle tree, then I can do anything. If I can venture into a different inbox, I can certainly solve any book problem. This really feels far riskier; we are after all talking about my address book.

So I am resolved: Whenever it's necessary to spend what feels like miserably wasted time on tech details, it helps to keep in mind: the high-wire aspects of it are character-building.

(If you have gadget enthusiasm, this post does not apply to you.)







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Orwell on Fear and Writing

"Good novels are written by people who are not frightened."

That's from George Orwell, author of some fairly daring novels: 1984 and Animal Farm.

And I know he's right. I had a lot of struggle with my previous novel Sister India, until I pretty much gave up on seeing it published in my lifetime and started revising it to be the way I'd want to leave it when I'm gone. (I did make sure that included a pretty fast-paced plot.) When I finished that revision, my agent sold it in 2.5 weeks.

I think that in letting go (mostly) of how the book would be received, I also let go of fear and the concommitant strain on the writing. Not so easy for me to do until it seems that there are no other options. I may need to learn how to switch into that attitude from the beginning.



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The Anticipatory Anxiety Was the Hard Part

Bottom line: spending last night with the three young nephews went well. (See previous post for my irrational fears about this.)

All three boys were fun and good company, and the older two told me everything that needed doing. And my husband Bob arrived mid-evening in time to go out chasing Dash, the hound I accidentally let out.

Pizza and American Idol, with our living room reviews of each performance, kept everybody happy.

In fact, with the exception of driving and the security of having an adult around, I think Harley (12) and Tucker (9) could take care of themselves and their five-year-old brother just fine.

I did flub a few things. I thought we could walk out and get in the car and that would take maybe one minute. Wrong. It was more like moving troops and Tucker was worried that I was going to make him late. Also, I left the trash can in reach of the two hounds and they spread garbage all over the breakfast room floor. But nothing serious went wrong.

And so a major barrier crossed--my being responsible, even briefly, for children. Tonight, lasagne, making sure Tucker's school project is done, and perhaps being a little more relaxed.


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Fear of Baby-Sitting

Kids scare me more than almost anything. What's troubling is the idea of being responsible for one or more, the trapped feeling of not being able to look away. This is no doubt a function of my touch of obsessive-compulsive disorder, which focuses on the fear of doing harm.

Tonight and tomorrow night, my husband and I are staying with my younger three nephews, ranging from age 5 to 12. They're lovely boys, every one.

Still... This is my vulnerable area, and I'll be there for at least two hours before Bob arrives. Intellectually I know it'll all be fine.

However, it still feels huge. Risky. Unsettling.

It's clear to me that one thing I need to do is give myself credit for doing it at all. Another is to let this remind me to have sympathy for people whose fears I don't share: of flying or public speaking or traveling alone.

I'll let you know how tonight goes. I expect that once I get there it will be fine.



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Conquering Financial Fears

Artists tend to think a lot about money. Like round the world backpackers--when they cross paths, they don't talk about the culture or the historic sights. They talk about cheap places to stay that have hot water 24 hours a day.

A lot of us get very nervous about the subject of money, insist we're no good at it, etc.

A story on Beliefnet today sets out ten tips for beating the fear of money. It's aimed at the spiritually-minded, but some of the ideas could be useful for anyone. Like "Make Peace With Your Financial Past." That one is very valuable to me: I still beat up on myself for years of undercharging, for various financial errors I've made.

This piece by Susan Corso offers some strategies for replacing the guilt and anxiety, thus making better financial decisions.


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The Small-Dog Solution

Having a book in progress is like having a cat purring in your lap-- that thought came to me while writing the previous post, and it stayed in my mind.

Then this weekend, I discovered that sitting with an actual miniature dachsund named Moonshine in my lap was even better than having a metaphor in mind.

Several people have recently suggested time with an animal as an antidote for a sinking spell. I hadn't actually planned to try that one, since I do it every day already. My husband has a sheepdog (a Bouvier) and a mastiff-like dog who outweighs me (a Kangal) and I spend a fair amount of time reading and patting.

I now also see the delight in lapdogs (the sensible non-nervous type). Moonshine sat in my lap for hours at a friend's beach house this weekend. The experience was amazingly soothing. After a while I asked her "human companion" novelist/memoirist Lucy Daniels if she ever wrote with Moonshine in her lap. She does it a lot, I learned.

I can see writing while holding a little dog as a great way to avoid getting myself tied up in a knot, or swearing at the computer, or a number of other characteristic pitfalls. For some reason, sitting with that little warm dozing creature was entrancing. A deep trance is good for novels and pretty much everything else.

Thank you, Moonshine!






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Fear of Success

A writer friend once told me about a "fear of success" dream she'd had: of finding herself perched on a tall free-standing column, with a space no wider than a medium tree stump to stand on, and nothing to hold on to.

As I think back on it, I'm not sure that wasn't my dream. It's so vivid to me. If it wasn't mine, then I do know I reported one much like it in that same conversation.

I haven't had such a dream in a very long time. But almost all of us do wrestle with some sense of the discomfort of feeling exposed.

Here's an image to counter that fear: this serene and well-balanced heron, photographed by Mark LeGwin at Atlantic, NC. The bird is perfectly comfortable and at home on top of the column--and probably has the genial company of other birds on other pilings nearby. If that heron can do it, so can we.