A few summers ago, I set out on a solo road trip with the goal of tent camping in all the national parks in America. At my going-away party, my friend Allie said to me, “Aren’t you scared?”

To be honest, the idea that what I was doing might be scary hadn’t even crossed my mind. I’ve always been unconventional, so I’m used to my friends’ faces showing that they don’t think my idea sounds fun.

But scary?

This was new.

I explained that I wasn’t scared; I was exhilarated. But looking back, maybe that’s just what courage feels like before you learn to recognize it.

I only made it as far as Colorado before getting the good kind of “stuck,” but what unfolded there was the kind of trip writers can’t help but file under “future book material”—packed with surprise friendships and inexplicable coincidences that can only be described as magic.

Only later did it hit me: the whole adventure was basically a masterclass in creative courage that I desperately needed. And the first thing it taught me? Expect things to work out.

Expect Things to Work Out

People tend to get exactly what they expect from life. The ones who brace for disaster seem to collect it like they’re cursed, while those who assume things will work out somehow always land on their feet, swirling a glass of Pinot Noir.

One of my exes was Chicken Little incarnate, convinced that danger lurked around every corner. So, of course, his life was a never-ending parade of unhelpful customer service reps, surprise bills and mysteriously lost luggage. His vibes were so off, even mosquitoes avoided him.

My best friend, on the other hand, moves through life like The Fool in the Tarot—wide open, trusting, eternally game for whatever adventure shows up next. Some people call his way of being naive. But 17 years of observation confirm that his unwavering belief that life is good makes it so. He assumes things will work out… and 99% of the time, they do.

Here’s what I’ve learned from watching both sides of that coin: Fear is SUCH a drama queen.

What you’re afraid of happening is never as bad as what actually happens. (Ask anyone who’s ever procrastinated for six months on going to the DMV 🙋🏻‍♀️) This is literally the foundation of exposure therapy—face the scary thing repeatedly until you realize the monster under the bed is just dust bunnies and a mausoleum of cat toys.

And worry—that thing that happens when you envision disastrous outcomes? Worry is a meditation on shit. The What if game is only life-giving if you’re visualizing best-case scenarios.

So what’s it gonna be?

Trust Yourself

Even more important than internalizing Lesson 1 is this: Even when things don’t turn up all unicorns and rainbows, you must trust that you are resourceful enough to survive. You’ve overcome adversity 1,000 times before, and you’re still standing, so that’s proof you can take on anything.

Take me as an example. The number of times I should have been eaten by wolves and wasn’t makes the case that even bungled attempts at adulting still manage to get something right.

Like the time I was branded an agent of chaos1, fired, and evicted from my summer housing halfway across the country—only to land a new job and a room to rent within 24 hours.

Or the time I booked a plane ticket to a foreign country with the wrong name, but the airport was completely automated, so no humans were around to notice.

Or the time I lost my ID and all my money on my fourth day in Italy and reported it to the cops while wearing assless pants—and it turned into this hilarious tale.

It seems that, like cockroaches and rats, I’m a survivor. And since you’re alive and reading this, you are too.

So bring on the hijinks. We’re clearly resilient enough to handle whatever’s coming down the pipeline.

All we need to do now is…

Act Like Being Here is the Most Natural Thing in the World

Let’s call this handsome guy Gary.

Gary wandered in from Rocky Mountain National Park to casually dine on the front lawn of a popular hotel. With utmost nonchalance, he ate grass while traffic backed up and throngs of lookie-loos (myself included) invaded his personal space to get the perfect photo.

Gary remained utterly unbothered. He clearly believed he belonged on this lawn and that spending his afternoon this way was a perfectly appropriate thing to do.

When it comes to our craft, we could stand to take a page from Gary’s book.

We should all put our big ideas out into the world and then stand there like of COURSE our dreams deserve a seat at the table. That kind of confidence draws crowds. People might even gape at you in awe and want pics to prove they were there when it happened. And, just like with Gary, the smart folks won’t mess with you, because they’ll sense that you’re a force.

So it’s best to ignore the voice inside that says you don’t belong in the arena2. Because when you “act as if” you are someone worth paying attention to, guess what?

People will pay attention.

Assume Positive Intent

The reaction I got to this video was intense. My father—who had always seemed confident that my #PoorLifeChoices were less egregious than the average bear3—texted, “I thought you were smarter than this.”

My friend Allie said, “This is literally what I meant at your going-away party.”

But by far the most perplexing response was, “That’s terrifying; what did you have on you to kill it with?”

Um… what?

Why, for the love of all things sacred and beautiful, is this the first thought your brain formed?

Look, I know that crossing paths with a starving animal in the middle of nowhere, where few hikers ever tread, has a high danger quotient. Ditto a momma bear protecting her cubs. My situation was neither of those scenarios, however.

And I did have bear mace and a switchblade.

And I had even put them in my backpack for a change.

But my thinking could not have been further from how quickly I could get to my weapons. Instead, I was absolutely bursting with awe. How many people ever get to see a bear in the wild this close up? How amazing that the bear’s sole focus was eating ants out of a log, and not hiding from view or running away from the hikers on the path! His energy clearly communicated that we could all share the space without anyone having to pee themselves or knock over five-year-olds in an attempt to escape.

Oh, and did I mention there was a five-year-old nearby?

Much easier to catch and eat, DAD.

Here’s the lesson.

When you assume positive intent, you don’t lead with defensiveness. You show up curious, grounded and receptive, and the world mirrors that back. You see possibility where others see threat.

Creative bravery is exactly the same muscle.

When you make something, when you share your weird ideas, you’re metaphorically walking up to a bear. You have no way of predicting the response. There’s a real possibility you’ll be bitten—and experience criticism or rejection.

But if you assume the bear has positive intent… then you show up differently. You share with openness instead of armor. You create from love, not fear.

And that’s what makes your art magnetic.

That moment on the trail was a pivotal one. I could’ve reacted with panic, but I didn’t. And because of that, I got to witness wonder.

Let your own art come from that same spirit of choosing wonder over fear.

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Despite run-ins with elk, bears, bighorn sheep, king snakes, skunks, and even the mysterious creature I saw dragging a dead chicken through the woods 😱, the scariest encounter by far was with the rabid attack chipmunks.

I was visiting the Shambala Mountain Center and, in a post-meditation haze, sat on a bench to eat my lunch. The sun was shining, birds were chirping… and there were a lot of chipmunks. Bold ones. Alpha dogs in rodent form. They’d run right up to people and stop just shy of jumping on their shoes.

Ah, they’re used to getting fed, I thought, and turned my attention back to my veggie chili.

But then I felt it—the unmistakable sensation of being watched.

I looked up to find two chipmunks staring at me from four feet away. And when I say staring, I mean they were looking at me like velociraptors sizing up a human hors d’oeuvre.

They looked at me. Then at each other. Then back at me.

I stared back.

Then they charged.

In 1.4 seconds, they closed the gap, one creating a diversion while the other launched onto the bench and dove straight INTO MY BOWL!!!

No joke.

It took everything in me not to scream and launch a cascade of chili—and a chili-coated chipmunk—into the air. I settled on the next best option, which seemed to be shouting “NO! NOOOOO!” while wagging my finger in their faces like a demented old lady scolding her cats.

And much like naughty cats, the chipmunks gave zero fucks.

So what did I learn from this most unprecedented of ambushes?

The Most Potent Attacks on Your Bravery Will Come from Unexpected Places

When you do something brave, expect some shade. Having the balls to change the status quo implies to everyone else—who accepts things the way they are—that they are doing it wrong.

And look, I know I’ve just spent this whole post pom-pom waving about how it’s safe to put yourself out there (and it is). But I’m also realistic enough to know that dream zappers will always exist. Not everything that bites is a bear.

Sometimes it’s your mom, your partner or the friend with whom you’re always brainstorming new business ideas. These people will come at you with the most insidious advice, urging you to “be realistic” (ie, don’t try) and asking “if you’re 100% positive” (impossible, unless you’re psychic). All of these words will be cloaked in bravery-dampening, concerned-sounding sentiments like, “I just want what’s best for you,” or “I’d hate to see this not work out,” or “I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

Do. not. listen. Just leap.

Overthinking will stop you dead in your tracks. While you’re spending more time “preparing,” your doubts—and the doubts of your dream zappers—are spreading like a toxic root system, gluing you in place.

So whether you’re chasing more money or more metaphorical chili, here’s the real roadmap to brave living:

Hope like an optimist. Prepare like a survivor. Act like you belong.

And leap before you feel ready, because ready is a myth.

The chipmunks didn’t wait for certainty; they lunged. They went after what they wanted with reckless enthusiasm—and maybe that’s the whole secret. Bravery isn’t about never feeling fear. It’s about doing the audacious thing anyway, while fear yells from the sidelines that you’re crazy.

And when the dream zappers start whispering? Let them. They’re just afraid you’ll prove it’s possible.

You, my friend, have better things to do—like chasing your passion.

Your Turn

Okay, spill it—what’s your version of the rabid attack chipmunks? The thing that tried to scare you off but ended up making the story better?

Tell us below.

Listen to my chat with Dai Manuel about overcoming fear.