In Frank Herbert’s Dune trilogy, protagonist Paul Atreides is subjected to a painful trial early on. He uses what his people call “the Litany Against Fear” to steel his nerves and pass the test:
“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
It’s a powerful mantra, but fear can do more than just weaken us. It can also be a source of tremendous strength. When a lorry threatened to crush his car on the highway, one of my dad’s work colleagues ripped out his gear lever with one hand. That’s also power—and in this case, fear was its source, not its detractor.
Sure, like any emotion, you can let the fear pass through. But the stronger the fear, the harder it gets. Sometimes, it’s easier to channel the fear than to sidestep it. Allow it to focus your senses and direct your energy at a singular threat until it’s eliminated. When we’re in a creative zone of flow, everything else falls by the wayside. Peak fear can have the same effect, and it’s on us to decide when to let it.
Fear can be the mind-killer, or it can be the mind-stiller. It can obliterate you or the obstacle in your path. Choose whether to dodge or ride it, and every time you get it right, the end will be the same: Only you will remain.