During my workout two days ago, I realized the intention that I want to set for this year. I want to follow my fear.

Despite the world being turned upside down, 2020 felt quite comfortable for me at a personal level. I spent most of the year focused on building Browserflow and did what I do best: enter hermit mode and code, code, code. I played to my strengths rather than focus on the areas where I lack experience.

The tendency to stay in my comfort zone showed up in other ways: I worked out, but did the routines I'm familiar with and just maintained my fitness level rather than trying to develop it further. I wrote every day, but didn't strive to improve in the craft of writing or experiment with new forms of expression.

Now, to be clear, I don't think there's anything wrong with being comfortable. If you're content and find joy in life, that's all you need. There's no need for self-flagellation for failing to push yourself and achieve some arbitrary goal you've set.

I've written before about how setting goals stopped resonating with me, and that's still largely the case. For me, making the shift from "becoming" to "being" meant that the constant push towards improving myself stopped being as compelling.

But that doesn't mean that I think I'm perfect or have nothing to work on — far from it. I know that there are many areas in my life that will continue to grow and develop. But I want my relationship to this to be one where I'm trusting the process and watering the plant knowing that it will grow in its own time, not digging it up to check on its roots every day and being unhappy that it’s not a full grown tree yet.

The way that I want to water the plant this year is to focus on following my fears. I've noticed that I've developed a habit of shying away from difficult decisions or commitments partly because I've been afraid. For example, in my work, I think part of the reason why it's taken me so long to open up Browserflow for other people is fear that it wouldn't be good enough. There's also been fear around charging people for the things I make and whether that'd create a level of obligation I wouldn't be able to handle. Fear around hiring, fear around depending on others, fear around lots of stuff.

The thing about this fear is that when it influences my decisions, it's not necessarily clear that the source is fear. I usually have reasons that sound good in my head: Sharing Browserflow prematurely doesn't make sense because it'ssi not useful until it's stable and flexible; I want to provide my work for free because I don't need the money and want everyone to benefit from it; hiring involves a lot of work that might not pay off; etc.

In other words, the fear lurks in the background, hidden from sight, but when I pay attention, it seems to be somewhat present in many of the things I do.

This year, I want to start noticing when fear is pushing me away from doing something, and do exactly that thing. This is what I mean by following my fear: I'm going to treat fear as a lantern illuminating the unexplored crevices of my psyche and lean into the discomfort rather than avoiding it.

Committing to following my fear has already been fruitful. I wanted to organize a going away gathering to spend my last night here with all the friends I've made here in Taiwan. For the several dozen people I wanted to invite, it seemed to make the most sense to rent out a venue rather than show up at a bar and hope it can accommodate everyone. But there was a lot of discomfort with that idea: How does renting out a venue even work? How much would it cost? How do I distribute the cost so that I'm not paying for all of it? Would people even want to pay? What happens if not enough people show up? Given my lack of experience organizing events with any significant number of people, this felt like a monumental amount of work. Maybe it'd be better to do something small or even nothing at all.

But I reminded myself that I'd committed to following my fear. I do want to get better at organizing things and build experience putting together bigger events, so I decided to go for it. A good friend put me in touch with the owner of a vegan restaurant, and I've been working with her to create a catered dinner for 30-40 people. And as with most things, it's turning out to be nowhere as confusing or difficult as I'd thought it'd be. Fear makes mountains out of molehills. This year, I want to climb all the mountains I encounter.

2021 is the year of fear.

<aside> 👋🏼 You're reading Road to Ramen, my public journal where I think aloud and share everything I learn in exploring the question: Can I make a living building things I love?

by DK the Human (@dk_the_human)

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