Some days, hippie guru advice is just annoying.

I can’t be bothered with it.

But on others – when Chandler’s couch is a metaphor for getting crushed by consciousness – I’m magically more open.

Such was what I encountered today when I clicked on this Youtube video some yoga chick had made about “releasing fear”. Her point (painted in what some might call fairly esoteric language) was that when we’re afraid, it’s a natural fight-or-flight response to a perceived threat. But since we’re not in the jungle trying to outrun a man eating Teddy Ruxpin with rows of powerful razor teeth (unless you’re into that kinda thing), those fears generally have to do with discomfort about what the future may hold. And that we have to address what’s at the source of our fears in order to send it off like one of those Asian paper boats in a river.

It’s true. And it’s hard. It’s so much easier to distract myself when I start to get nervous and dunno why.

Reading a book. Taking in some hot tea. Taking in some hot-tie. #zing

But about 100% of the time, those things never solve the fear. It’s waiting for me like a mess you have to clean up when the party’s finally over and the chemicals wear off. And the longer you wait and try to party out the inevitable finale, the more desolately intense that comedown n’ cleanup feels once it finally arrives. You’ve gotta put everything down and sort out the cognitive clutter ASAP if not sooner. That’s the only way to get comfortable again. To figure out why you’re really tap dancing around a problem, say: “What-if is bullshit”, and dive head-first into the damned thing.

Still, there’s a yes-and to fear musings that I’ve never understood.

When we’re afraid about something, I’ve heard innumerable spiritualists say:

“All fear stems from fear of death.”

Try as I might to mind masticate this tidbit, this makes less sense to me than homegirl’s thoughts of fear-of-future.

Because my biggest fear isn’t ever about death – but discomfort. I hate being uncomfortable. If I knew for a fact that when I died, I’d merge with the Higgs field irreversibly in permanent Nirvana, then you wouldn’t be reading this ’cause that sounds awesome. #sorrynotsorry So, even when I’m worried about dying, my real concern is more like, “What if I just come back as one of the creatures from an Aphex Twin video? They never look comfortable. At all.” The irony here is that I spend so much time indulging that fear now (an activity that’s uncomfortable in itself) about what’ll prospectively make me uncomfortable later. Then, half the time, that “later” episode isn’t nearly as bad as it was on loop in my mind. And even when it is, more than half the time, it’s because I’ve anxiously dreaded it diligently enough to paint my pre-conceived perception about it into reality. It’s DUMB. This is normally where I’d say, “I should paint my pre-conceived perceptions about future events more positively instead.” But that’s just as bad. It’s all collectively assumption based forecasting. Either way, you’re just setting yourself up for a personal fail or general disappointment in how you expected the other people or things or unfolding life in general to be.

Thus, my mantra for this year should be: “Be ready for anything, bish. ’cause ya ain’t a soothsayer.”

Just don’t hold me to it later. I might not be in an advice mood.

And then you’ll have something legit to fear, my friend.