MEETING YOURSELF BEYOND THE BORDER

and How to Manage the Fear of What You Don't Know

Hi, it’s Eva from Wild Authentic Xplore, and today I want to continue an at-will, series I’m writing (meaning, at the will and mercy of inspiration) called Wild Authentic Resist, where we consider the principles of Active Authenticity and the direction they might suggest for the renewal of our democracy. While I sit on the “left” side of things, this is not a “left” or “right” discussion. It’s a recognition that Authenticity and Democracy are sister models of being-in-the-world. At their core they both assume the equal, and inviolable, sovereignty of EACH ONE OF US, and as a champion of this sovereignty, the principles of an active authenticity have something to say about this moment of radical possibility.

Now, let’s get to it.

In our last post, The Map of You, I introduced the idea that the self you experience is but a subset of the self you could be experiencing. In other words, the self you know yourself to be is not really the self you are in all your fullness. There are parts of you still waiting to be experienced, and they wait beyond the borders of who you know yourself to be. That was the last post. This post is about those borders and why they’re so effective at hemming us in.

Let’s start with a casual definition of a border. Isn’t it a demarcation, something that separates this thing from that thing? What the THIS is and what the THAT is may be open to interpretation, but to the extent that we recognize the border and stay within it, we limit our experience of what life has to offer and thus our experience of who we are.

Maybe in some instances this is a good thing, as when we limit our experience of danger. But in some situations, the limit’s not in our best interest and instead holds us back. That’s the nature of borders, they create limits. Which is why they must be carefully considered, carefully placed, and continuously evaluated to make sure they’re still relevant and still serve us.

Because there’s great potential beyond a border. Potential for the new experience, not just of what lies beyond the border, but as I’ve mentioned, of ourselves as well. Let me pull in a quote from our last post that emphasizes this point.

Novel experiences tease at the edges of what we know, not just about the world, but of ourselves as well. As we both experience the new, and respond to the new, we experience ourselves anew.

Okay, you might say. So, I can access a broader, potentially more aligned, alive, engaged, etc., experience of myself by being open to new things and situations. Excellent, you say. Sounds easy enough to do. And as a concept, it is. And sometimes it’s easy in practice as well. Some of us are just wired for the open air of exploration and adventure.

But all too often something surfaces when we approach a border, when we arrive at the threshold of the unknown. Something that’s an obstacle to engaging “the new.” And that something? It’s fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the yawning gap that exists between what we know and rely on, and what we don’t know and so fear.

Fear of the unknown can hold us back from experiencing not only a richer version of life, but a fuller understanding of who we are, and because it can, this fear is worthy of our attention. It’s what I’ll be talking about today; I’ll also introduce a strategy you can use to prevent this fear from getting in your way. Let me now sketch out a scenario that offers a concrete example of this fear.

Let’s say I’ve moved to a new part of the country and am finding it difficult to meet new people and make new friends. After hearing about my latest social disappointments, my neighbor—with whom I've bonded over the meowing, garbage strewing cats in the alley—suggests I go rock climbing on Saturday with her and a group of friends I've never met. She assures me it will be a “good time.”

And a sort of panic hits. I’m not that coordinated in general, and the thought of dangling perilously off the side of a cliff, secured only by a seeming thread connected to a flimsy, paperclip-like-anchor, and, I might add, with a ready group of onlookers waving me on, well, it makes me lose my breath. Literally. I can feel myself turning a shade of blue. “No really,” she says, noticing my deepening complexion, “it’ll be fun.”

“We’ll see,” I say. “Can I let you know on, how about on Friday?”

So, that’s our example of an unknown situation and the kind of fear it provoked in me. Now, let’s take a closer look at what I experienced when I learned that the “fun time-yeehaw!” would be rock climbing. The first, and overriding experience of my emotions, might have been something like panic, self-doubt, insecurity, and dread. If I stayed with the experience a bit long, and dug a bit deeper, I may have also detected slivers of excitement, appreciation, and a feeling of being wanted and belonging.

Now, let’s look at the sensations of that experience. Maybe I felt dizzy, breathless, lightheaded, weak-in-the-knees, suddenly tired. And if I stayed with the experience a bit longer, I may have also noticed more subtle feelings, such as being lighter, energized, alert.

How about the experience of my thoughts? While at first their tone may have been something like, Is she crazy? People die rock climbing. I wonder when they last checked the equipment? I hate being watched. With closer examination I may have caught another tone in the mix, with thoughts like, What a friendly thing to suggest, She’s nice—her friends might be too. If I close my eyes on the mountain, I can pretend I’m here, walking backwards in the living room.

With close attention to my experience, I may detect the more subtle, and perhaps less fearful aspects of my thoughts, emotions, and sensations. Even so, my overriding response is still one of fear. My mind is promoting it, my emotions are feeling it, and my body is responding in-kind.

A tendency to “fill the gap” between what we know and what we don’t with negative, even frightening imaginings, taps a biological predisposition that prioritizes our safety. It prompts us to consider “all the things that could go wrong” or “take us out.” Maybe in a primitive ordering of things, survival beat expansion and growth.

Which is to say that we all come with a built-in caution that meets the unknown with a certain skepticism. In survival terms, this caution is a good thing. But when caution becomes an unyielding imperative instead of a “pause to consider,” it can keep us stuck where we are, overly deferential to borders and the safety they would suggest.

And when we fail to recognize that this caution is in us, wired in if you will, it’s easy to assume the unease we feel harbors some truth about what lies beyond the border.

We fear the unknown, not necessarily because the unknown thing merits our fear, but because we are, to a certain extent, wired to fear what we don’t know.

In thrall to our worst imaginings, we judge the unknown thing as unsafe and therefore best avoided, and at worst, rejected and even vilified. And when malign actors are about, our fear of the unknown can be manipulated. It can be used to serve ends that are not consistent with who we are and intend to be. Being manipulated in this way not only limits our experience of the other, what lies beyond the border, but in so doing it also limits what we could be discovering about ourselves.

Let’s take a breath and take a step back for a minute. Our goal here is to become ever more aware of who we truly are so we can live more in alignment with who we truly are. Given our goal, undue fear of the unknown does not serve us. So, what can we do to manage this situation?

To address your fear of the unknown, consider the stories you insert into the gap between what you know and what you don’t. In our example, I filled the gap between what I knew (standing on solid ground) and what I didn’t (dangling off a cliff) with anxiety-producing thoughts. These thoughts only acted to reinforce my fear.

What if I had instead filled the gap with positive thoughts?

Thoughts such as, lots of people rock climb and enjoy it. Lucky me, my only job will be to tiptoe down the rock face strapped in and secure. Being in nature is so relaxing. What fun to meet new people there.

What if I leaned into the secondary emotions and sensations I was already having? What if I focused on the excitement, sense of belonging, appreciation and friendship I had with my neighbor? These aspects of the experience are there already. What if I amplified them instead of imagining worse-case scenarios?

Amplifying the positive thoughts, emotions, and sensations you may already be having will help you step into the unknown, as will intentionally seeking out other useful elements of the experience and tying them to goals you may have already (in this case, meeting new people).

While varying levels of caution are appropriate when faced with the unknown, prioritizing unfounded fears and “filling the gap” with these anxieties will only keep you stuck where you are. While perhaps feeling safer, treading-in-place compromises your ability to pursue true life, liberty, and happiness by denying you access to the very borders beyond which your expanding self lies.