The Fear That Made Me Careful

Twenty-eight years back, my wife said something that stuck: "Right and wrong is just a definition. It changes based on where you're standing."

I heard it. Nodded. Even agreed intellectually. But did I believe it? Sparingly. Maybe 20% of the time.

The other 80%? Pure fear.

Fear of being wrong. Fear of failing. Fear of that moment when someone would point and say, "See? I told you."

So I became careful. Risk-averse. The kind of guy who'd run three scenarios before sending an email. My mind turned into this brilliant defense attorney - always ready with rational explanations for why "now is not the right time" or "we need more data."

I wasn't cautious. I was scared. But my mind dressed it up as wisdom.

This went on for decades. Good career, steady growth, no major disasters. But also - no major breakthroughs. I was living inside a cage I'd built myself, calling it "pragmatism."

Then, about a year ago, I started reading Ashtavakra Gita. And something shifted.

Not the content - I'd heard these concepts before in various forms. But this time, something clicked about the separation: soul, mind, body. Three different things. Not mixed up into one confused "me."

The mind is clouds - thoughts and feelings that come and go. They're not me. They're just weather inside my head.

When I started practicing this awareness - just watching these three parts throughout the day - something strange happened. The fear started dissolving. Not because I became braver. But because there was suddenly no one there to be afraid.

Here's what I noticed in those zero-fear moments:

My best executive decisions didn't come from thought storms. They came from clear knowing. Zero thoughts, just knowing, then acting. The formal frameworks and analyses? Those came later - to make my decisions acceptable to others, not to make the decisions themselves.

When fear drops, you're in the present moment completely. And in that state, the question of "what if I'm wrong?" doesn't even arise. Not because you're confident you're right. But because the whole framework of right/wrong becomes irrelevant to the action itself.

At work, this changes everything.

No fear = no fear of judgment = no analysis paralysis = best version of yourself doing the work.

The control is entirely yours. Not in an ego sense. But in the sense that you're not waiting for validation, not seeking approval, not hedging bets.

But here's the caveat - and this is critical for workplace application:

Politeness is still non-negotiable.

Even if it's "acting." Even if it's strategic. Even if internally you're operating from zero-thought space.

Why? Because other people's minds are still listening. And their minds guide their owners. So you act with no fear of right or wrong, but you work with their minds, not against them.

This isn't manipulation. It's practical wisdom. You're using your mind as a tool to navigate their minds, while your soul remains untouched by the whole drama.

Sabri se sabra seekho, right? Sabri waited her whole life, tasting berries daily. But here's what I'm learning - you don't have to wait a lifetime for this shift.

My wife was right 28 years ago. But I needed Ashtavakra to show me why she was right. Not intellectually. Experientially.

When you're identified with the soul (the witness), right and wrong are just concepts your mind is playing with. They have no reality beyond that. The fear of being wrong? That's just mind-weather. Clouds passing.

But the paradox is this: once you stop fearing being wrong, you actually make fewer mistakes. Not because you're being more careful. But because fear itself was clouding your knowing.

In my COO role, I've tested this repeatedly. The decisions that felt "riskiest" from a mind perspective were actually the clearest ones. The knowing was sharp. The action was swift. The results? Better than when I was being "pragmatic."

So the question isn't "What if I'm wrong?"

The question is: "Am I deciding from fear-mind or from clear-knowing?"

Once you can tell the difference, the game changes completely.

Not that you become fearless. But that fear stops driving the bus.