Risk - 011
I. Introduction
After dinner last week, I pull Golda out from her high chair and stand her next to the table. She reaches for my hand to explore the apartment. Typically, we just pace the kitchen together. But this time, she lets go quickly and takes two drunken steps before collapsing the floor. She’s ready to walk, she just needs the confidence in her balance to let go and trust herself.
But at her age, walking poses a risk. She faces danger, harm, and possible catastrophe (as do Lauren and I) every time she lets go of a hand to try walking on her own.
That’s how she has to learn. Actually, that’s how any of us learn– to walk, to bike, to speak in public, to fall in love. We face the fear of loss and possible catastrophe until we’re confident enough to keep going. And then we face the next one. Sometimes overcoming the fear, sometimes proceeding despite the fear.
Obviously, this month I’ve been thinking a lot about risk.
Here, take my hand, let’s explore together.
II. Kinds of Risk
When I was six or seven, my best friend loved wrestling. He was about 4 inches taller and always stronger than me. So when we were together, sure, I liked watching wrestling. But I was never very into tackling and body slams. I avoid physical risk taking and fear getting hurt. To this day, I’ve never broken a bone or had stitches. And because of that, as my classmates told stories of stitches and signed casts, I believed for years that I was not a risk-taker.
But as we got older, I noticed that while I was averse to physical risk taking, I was much more open to other kinds of risk: Speaking in public. Playing music in front of a crowd. Serious relationships. Traveling to a country that didn’t speak my language. Starting a conversation with a stranger.
We inherently know that facing risk is important to finding meaning and reward in our lives. And still there’s a part of each of us that feels scared of taking a chance– that makes us risk-averse. But perhaps we need to reframe that belief. We are all open to taking risks, but in the right category. Consider:
Physical risk (fear of pain)
Health risk (fear of illness)
Financial risk (fear of loss)
Emotional risk (fear of rejection)
Social risk (fear of not belonging)
Spiritual risk (fear of being wrong)
Existential risk (fear of wasting time)
Moral risk (fear of guilt and regret)
Professional risk (fear of failure)
Reputational risk (fear of personal criticism)
Being a risk-taker is not a quality that all of us posses. But taking some risks in some parts of our lives are required to live a meaningful and rewarding life. So knowing which areas feel vulnerable, which feel like we have room to explore, and which we’re secure enough to risk everything can help give us confidence. To remind us that we are all brave and willing to face at least some of our fears.
III. Stories of Risk
There is risk in everything. Risk is based on uncertainty and our entire lives are uncertain. As a result, many of us create and perpetuate stories about the risky path. “Indian food is disgusting. Getting fired is the worst thing that could happen. Marriage is a trap. Kids are a burden.” These stories build up our fears and we choose to not pursue the risk of learning, trying, meeting, earning, failing.
So we avoid risk: putting all our money in a bank, choosing a partner who everyone else will like but not feeling challenged, not trying to have kids even if we want them.
But over time, the safe choice turns sour. We don’t get the money we could have earned, don’t build the trust we might deserve, don’t meet the people we might belong to, don’t ask for what we actually want, don't learn, or aspire for better. Eventually, the safe choice becomes harmful to us.
There’s a psychological theory called the “dignity of risk” which says that taking risks is essential for our self-esteem and should not be impeded by over-cautious caregivers. That risk is necessary for development to learn how to challenge ourselves and gain confidence. Overprotection can lead to underachievement and a learned dependency.
As parents, the ultimate caregiver, it’s part of our job to show our children how to face fears, perhaps cautiously. To create new stories of risk that embrace fear and courage. That loving whole-heartedly is the only way to love and confidence, knowledge, and self-awareness are required build ourselves up after we’ve been hurt. Because it will happen. That tools can hurt us, but we can learn to use them to build our world. We need to model being resilient without being reckless as our kids (and we ourselves) step into a world overflowing with risk.
What are the stories we tell ourselves that push us away from what we ultimately want?
Here’s a new story: Risk is good for us; and no matter what the outcome, we survive.
(And even if we don’t survive, we were trying for something we wanted. And what other outcome could there be in life?)
IV. In Defense of Boring
I keep harping on this idea that no reward can come without risk. But what if the opposite were true? What if there was a reward in living risk-free? Let’s take a minute to explore the benefits of taking the safe road and living a boring life.
Yes, great things happen when we take risks. Working all weekend on a project that goes well on Monday morning. Surgery that eliminates cancer. A huge day on the stock market that makes you a month’s salary in a day. The freefall of love.
But the other side also happens. Arguably more often. Our work will go unappreciated or criticized. Our investments will fail. Our hearts will be torn out and shattered. Our loved ones will die.
Risk is a rollercoaster in the dark. Unpredictable, unsteady, emotional and financial volatility. Why would any of us seek that? Why do we value excitement in our romantic lives, in our work, in our finances?
Wouldn’t we be better off with well-paying and predictable work, steady relationship, loyal friendships, and safe financial life? Boring can be great. In fact, it takes a lot of work and intentionality to get to boring. To create a company where there are no fire drills, late nights, and unexpected weekend work. To establish a trusting partnership without any fighting. To put money away every month and be able to retire by your 50s.
Long live boring!
To clarify, boring is not the same as boredom. I’m not arguing for indifference nor ennui. We should care about these parts of our lives. In fact, maybe boring is about caring so deeply, and taking your work, your finances, your relationships so seriously. Getting to be so good that you can be boring. Boring is for the professional.
It's the amateurs that judge the boring people and boring lives. Because their lives are fraught with uncertainty, and it’s that lack of predictability that shapes their identity. The amateur thrives on spontaneity, seeking adventure and thrill. The amateur sees boring as a risky choice because of his fear of missing out
The professional knows what she wants and the stability, consistency, and predictability of getting it overpowers the concern of missing anything else.
No one dreams of a boring life. But maybe, with enough hard work, we could all have one some day.
VI. Thanks
I am continuously grateful for your thoughtful responses and provoking questions. It gives me joy that people are sharing these with their friends and family. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed researching and writing it.
It’s time to let go of my hand now.
Until next time,
Jake
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References:
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2018/mar/14/danger-school-playgrounds-children-saws-bricks
https://raptitude.com/2019/10/cross-the-gap-before-it-grows/
https://www.theschooloflife.com/thebookoflife/how-to-reduce-the-risk-of-affairs/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boredom
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Risk
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