Fear is the main reason why we don’t risk being a nonconformist. It comes in many forms:
the fear of embarrassment,
the fear of uncertainty,
the fear of rejection,
the fear of failure,
….the list is long.
Sometimes, these fears are well-founded. You probably shouldn’t invest all your savings into a startup that makes edible shoelaces. Fortune doesn’t always favor the brave. Fear can be an accurate signal you’re about to do something foolish.
But many of these fears are irrational. There’s a gap between feelings and facts. And when we needlessly conform, we remain safe and comfortable, but we lose out on so much more:
speaking the truth,
starting a movement,
pursuing the dream job,
discovering our passions,
…this list is even longer.
Since we all have numerous desires that we’ll never pursue because we’re afraid. In the moment, the fear is overwhelming. It blinds us to what we can gain, and we focus only on what can go wrong.
In the Long Run, We’re All Dead
There is one realization, both obvious and (at first) grim, that I’ve found is powerful enough to put these fears in their place. It is that one day I’ll be dead.
Even worse, I don’t know when. And worse still, no matter how long I have left, it will be too brief. As Oliver Burkman says in the opening of his book 4000 Weeks: “The average human lifespan is absurdly, terrifyingly, insultingly short.”
This number - 4000 weeks - is, on average, all we have: to take our chances and make our mark in the world.
To me, the temporary fears of embarrassment, failure, or uncertainty seem pretty insignificant against my inevitable finitude. What does it matter if I’m the odd one out? What does it matter if people raise their eyebrows when I express my opinions? What does it matter if I don’t conform?
It doesn’t. Not nearly as much as our fears would make us believe. From this grander perspective, our terrifyingly short life is why none of that matters.
I’m not sure where I first encountered this idea of thinking about death as an antidote to fear. But I always recall a passage from Popular Music From Vittula by Swedish writer Mikael Niemi that I first read 15 years ago. A teenage boy advises a friend who first faces the (soon-to-be familiar) fear of approaching a girl they’re interested in.
I tried to teach him the trick of thinking about death whenever you came up against a girl. It's a trick I've used myself many times over the years, and it is surprisingly effective. Before so very many years have passed, I'm going to die. My body will decay and disappear for ever. The same will happen to the girl, we'll all be no more. In a thousand years our lives and all our sweetest dreams and worst fears will be nothing but dust and ashes. So what difference does it make if she turns you down or is snooty or laughs in your face? Thanks to that cynical attitude I've occasionally managed to achieve remarkable results when it comes to love— dared to be with lethally beautiful women, for instance, and sometimes even been allowed to play with them.
This wisdom, from someone not yet old enough to drive, is timeless and universal. Every fear that holds us back from seeking affection, personal improvement, or impact in the world, dissolves when we confront our mortality.
The point is not to dwell here for too long. It’s the part before the end that matters. I recently came across an old interview with musician Frank Zappa. It wasn’t about fears or death, but his approach to music. He was asked, “Do you consider yourself a great guitarist?”. His answer (in part):
I have basic mechanical knowledge of the operation of the instrument and I got imagination, and when a time comes up in a song to play a solo it's me against the laws of nature - I don't know what I'm going to play I don't know what I'm going to do, I know roughly how long I have to do it, and it's a game where you have a piece of time and you get to decorate it, and depending on how intuitive the rhythm section is that backing you up, you can do things that are literally impossible to imagine, sitting here, but you can see them performed before your very eyes in a live performance situation.
You have a piece of time and you get to decorate it.
This is such a great line, and it could have been written about life, too. We get a piece of time; we know roughly how long we have if we’re lucky: 70-80, probably no more than 100. If you decide to, you can do things that are literally impossible to imagine sitting here today. You get to decorate your piece of time however you want. But only if you don’t allow fear to confine you to playing those familiar tunes.
So approach the girl or boy, start that project, stand your ground, and say what you think. Explore, experiment, and improvise. Stare down those fears and let people raise their eyebrows. But don’t conform. Life’s too short for that.
Henk it's crazy how many students of mine are terrified of publishing their words online. I need to go read 4,000 weeks. I think about my own mortality ALL THE FREAKING TIME and I know it's probably unhealthy. Maybe that book can help me a little bit. Cheers. I've subscribed.