Deep down, I fear it.

What it is, I’m not sure.

But it’s there. A dark pit, a void of some sort.

Perhaps it’s a fear of death. Of the unknown.

Or perhaps it’s a fear of how I might (or might not) react to the unknown.

Because the thing I “know” or I believe or think I know is my “identity.”

But what is identity other than the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves?

“I’m a tech wizard.”

“I’m a good father and a good husband.”

“I’m a good employee.”

“I’m a responsible citizen.”

“I’m an explorer and a traveler.”

and hundreds of others.

But what happens when the facts contradict those stories?

A tech problem that can’t be solved.

A marriage that ends in divorce or children who won’t talk to you.

A job termination for performance reasons.

Then our identities are tested, if not shattered.

And that can hurt…a lot. It feels like a shaky foundation, like walking on thin ice or worse, falling in to the frozen water and coming face to face with our own mortality.

So, instead, we (or at least I) do whatever I can to make sure that never happens. After all, who would WANT that?

And we do that by seeking to impose control and order on everything (in our own way).

But it comes at a price.

Actually, multiple prices over long periods.

The hardest part might be when we realize “oh wow, now I’m paying for it.”

And then we have to ask, explore, and feel if it was really, truly worth it.

And the harder part is to figure out the lessons from that choice so we make better choices, live differently in the future.

Lao Tzu writes:

“I have heard that those who are skilled in nurturing life can walk among tigers and not be bitten, can enter an army and not be wounded.

Tigers find no place to sink their claws, weapons find no place to pierce them, the sharp point finds no place to enter.

Why is this? Because there is in them no place of death.”