What I’d Do If I Had No Fear
A private letter to those navigating the wild with me
Hey friends,
I almost didn’t write this.
Not because I didn’t want to — but because I’m afraid of what might come out if I tell the truth.
Lately, I’ve been asking myself a question that keeps showing up like an uninvited guest who refuses to leave:
“What would you do if you had no fear?”
Not the kind of fear that keeps you from jumping out of airplanes or petting wild bears — but the quieter kind. The fear that wears different names:
Rejection. Exposure. Irrelevance. Hope. Love. Loss. Starting over. Starting again.
At first, the answers came quickly:
I’d publish the book.
I’d show the messy parts of my process without trying to package them.
I’d fall in love, for real, not from a distance I could control.
I’d build something big, beautiful, and maybe a little chaotic — and let people see it before it’s perfect.
But then the answers got harder.
Because the truth is, I’ve already done most of those things.
And fear? It’s still here.
I have another version of this question which haunts me: “What would you do if you knew you were dying?”
I mean, we are all dying. But having a dead husband does kind of spotlight some things differently. What if I had been him and I only had four months to live. What would I do? What is unfinished?
Here’s what I know about that question. You can think all the things you want about what might you do but until it is actually happening to you, you will never know.
But “what would I do if I had no fear?” doesn’t have the same type of weight of leaving a legacy. Or does it?