Signal Fire by Tyler Knott Gregson
Signal Fire by Tyler Knott Gregson
Fear Lies: Say It. Do It. Be It. | 4.6.25
0:00
-11:02

Fear Lies: Say It. Do It. Be It. | 4.6.25

To The Risks We Must Take - The Sunday Edition
No “we” without the risk

I will risk this sounding like nothing short of a Tony Robbins’ infomercial today. I will lay it on the line and wager that I’ll sound silly, that some may accuse me of being preachy or that I’m selling something. To that I say, I am (silly) and I am not (selling something) and hope you’ll believe me.

Last week I celebrated the insane 13th anniversary of the very first Typewriter Series poem, Typewriter Series #1, and I closed that essay with the declaration of a simple plea to you all. Today, I’m going a step further, because it dawned on me whilst writing that Signal Fire, I believe in what I was pleading for with a ferocity that I think I surprised myself with. I believe it, because I lived it, I lived it, because I believed in it. Though at the time, I don’t even think that crossed my mind.

If you missed it, you can read last week’s here:

but I’ll quote the very end of the essay here, now, for those who are short on time:

Bottom line, take the chances, take the risks, buy the typewriters, write the poems. You never, ever know what is waiting around the very next corner for you, you never know what’s coming. Be there when it does, be there when time catches up and you fall right into the loving arms of that 1% that gets graced with luck.

You never know. You just never know.

You never know. And then, one day you’ll realize you do know, and you’ll look around at all you have, all you’ve become, all you are now, and you’ll understand what I so clearly saw after I wrote that anniversary post. You’ll know that taking that risk, that jumping when you weren’t ready, has unlocked every lock on every door, that it kicked them open, that it was the push to the snowball of the rest of your life.

You’ll also realize, as I did, that fear lies.

Fear is the liar that steals hope to fill its lungs, it breathes it in and holds it and leaves you windless and gasping. Fear tells you that you’ll never be ready, you’ll never be worthy, or able, or talented enough, that you’re where you are because you’re not made for somewhere else. Fear will whisper sweetly into your ear that you need it, that you cannot possibly walk away from it, that no one else would ever hold you like it can. It will put you down then make you believe it wouldn’t dare, it will steal and steal and steal until all you know is giving away, until you convince yourself it was your idea in the first place, that you wanted to give it all away, all the amazing and unbelievable magic that lives right on the other side of what if.

Fear told me no one wanted to read some stupid poem from my stupid broken brain. Fear told me poetry was dead and that my deep necessity to write it was worth nothing at all. Fear told me I’d be alone, too. Told me that what I was waiting to find would never find me, that I’d have to choose one day, I’d have to settle, or I’d have to suffer.

Fear lies.

I tell you with no embellishment, without a single hint of hyperbole, that all I have today is from believing, truly believing, that the words fear was so often filling my ears with, were lies and nothing more. Everything, from that one brave moment where I believed Sarah when she told me people would care, that people would read, that it was worth it to spill out the truth that lives within you.

“Maybe the world needs to see YOU,” she said one day when I told her I didn’t need to see the big wide world outside my doorstep. Fear told me I was content with the life I’d been living, fear told me I couldn’t figure out the sicknesses that plagued me, that I couldn’t wander too far from home, that I would dissolve or explode or erupt or melt if I tried. Fear showed me the simple dot to dot of the rest of my life, then gave me the pen and told me to connect them.

Fear lies.

I wrote the poem on a busted and ancient typewriter. I scanned it in. I posted it on a social media app that still hadn’t found its feet. My whole life changed.

I risked it, too. I refused to settle, refused to let anyone else settle with me, and told myself I was brave enough to be alone, if alone was the alternative to a life of halfway filled, of halfway to the kind of love we all deserve, but refuse to chase.

Then, and this is the part I don’t speak of often, that bravery was tested. Then, all the things fear was whispering, was shouting into my ears, happened. I was alone, for years and years and years I was alone, and it was hard, and it was brutal, and more poetry came out of those years than I ever thought possible, and I just kept sharing them. I kept ripping open that little vulnerable heart and letting its beat match that of the keys on that silly old typewriter and you came and you read and you found me and I found you aching and hurting and waiting too and we all just were together and it was beautiful and painful and so fucking lovely it hurts to speak of now. Fear told me no one would care, you all came and told me otherwise and together we turned and faced the dark and twisted face of it and absolutely obliterated it with light.

Fear lies.

Love, it turns out, doesn’t.

We can become the sum of all our risks, the triumphs that come only when we’re strong enough to admit that we are scared in the first place. We can put ourselves out there, then, when it is hardest. We can believe, with all our silly hearts that something more is bound for us, it’s been coming all this time, and we’ve only to wait and refuse to settle for less in the meantime.

Point is, take the risks. Take the leaps. Put yourself out there time and time and time again, even if it’s scary, especially when it’s scary. Tell the people you love them when your heart fills your throat with the truth of that love. Tell them, and damn the consequences. Admit when you’re afraid, and move forward anyway.

I’m here to plead with you, to tell you I have seen the other side and I know it’s beautiful and I know you can have it too and I feel like Bill Murray on Scrooged shouting into the television cameras that you’re WORTH WAITING FOR and worth being scared for and all you have to do is just try to see it too.

See it too, please see it too. Fear will tell you that you should not, that you cannot, that you’ll never be brave enough. Fear will tell you it only happens to someone else, never you, that you’ll be where you are, who you are, for the rest of eternity and that you damn well better start accepting that. Fear will tell you to give up, to give in, to relent, to acquiesce. Fear will tell you it has to be this way.

Turn to it. Face it. Remember…

Fear lies.

If you enjoy this, please take two seconds to click the Heart to Like it at the bottom, and ReStack it or Share it. This really helps my work get seen by more people and helps this place grow.

Share Signal Fire by Tyler Knott Gregson

Fear is the liar

that steals the hope from before,

and haunts us after.

Haiku on Life by Tyler Knott Gregson


Song of the Week


Discussion about this episode

User's avatar
Kevin's avatar

“Fear Lies” - I love this lyrical affirmation because it speaks to anyone who has difficulty dealing with the challenges of life. Not just the creation of art. It has always been in the back of my mind (growing up in a large family with an even larger amount of conflicts) that the bigger question (and overall ‘fail safe’ for doing stupid things) about life was “What would happen if I didn’t do that?” Or the more common derivative used in many comedy sketches, “What could go wrong?” The answer to such a rhetorical question was typically: “nothing”. Or at least nothing as dramatic as the unexpected consequences of doing something stupid. Yet, the contrary can be expressed best for encouraging positive efforts in the question: “What can it hurt to try?” Asking such a question implies that potential positive outcomes are worth the effort. Of course, our pride has some value. But does it always have to be about “winning”? After all, isn’t there joy to be found in just “doing” or “creating”? All such questions are only limited by our perception of a reward for meeting any challenge. We are all guilty of second guessing ourselves when the opportunity for expression presents itself. Thankfully, there are communities like your’s , in Signal Fire, to encourage expression without judgement. Good thing for that because nobody plays their first solo at Carnegie Hall…

Capture the feeling,

to completely free yourself

of what can happen

A life to take in…

It doesn’t really matter,

what others may think.

I can see it now,

how it slipped through my fingers.

I never seized it.

Expand full comment
Tyler Knott Gregson's avatar

AHHH KEVIN! Welcome back dear friend. Asking yourself "What would happen if I didn't do that" is an amazing way to truly test the waters of your own regret. Your closing line before the poem is one I've never heard, and now adore. Nobody plays their first solo at Carnegie Hall. WOW. That's a powerful reminder my friend, that we have so little to lose if we just frame it that way. Thanks also for being my email penpal :)

Expand full comment
aliasjennica's avatar

Well, this haiku is for sure my second favorite. I have “Stronger than the pain / And able to defeat it / This will not break me” tattooed on my right arm. But this one is begging me to find a place for it, too.

Expand full comment
Tyler Knott Gregson's avatar

YOU are amazing, do you know this? If you need it written for you again, tell me, and I will do so.

Expand full comment
Elise's avatar

As usual, exactly what I needed to read this morning. Thank you for taking the leap to start (and stick with) the Typerwriter series.

My word of the year is "Brave" and fear has been so hard to overcome. I know there is more around the corner with each brave step I take. I appreciate the encouragement of your lived experience.

Expand full comment
Tyler Knott Gregson's avatar

As usual Elise, I am so honored you're here. Thank you for following along, for showing up, for sharing you. Brave for the year is the best word, and I am so glad you've chosen it. You're amazing.

Expand full comment
Samantha Cohn's avatar

I live my life in fear. Everything is ladeled with fear. My husband dying. My kids leaving me. My friends leaving. Bc there are so few left. They leave-I have borderline personality disorder and I get sick sometimes, mentally sick and very few people have stated with me-even my birth family

I’m still scared. I wonder what is ahead. And a lot of times I just see the pain. The fear.

But I’ve been working. Affirmations every morning taped to my bathroom mirror-I AM SAFE I AM HAPPY I AM LOVED I AM ENOUGH

THATS hard when you don’t believe them yet.

I’m crying pretty hard. You opened a can of worms TKG!

Expand full comment
Laura Marsh's avatar

You are being courageous by sharing this with us.

Expand full comment
Samantha Cohn's avatar

Thank you so much. This is a safe place. ❤️

Expand full comment
Tyler Knott Gregson's avatar

Samantha, you ARE so brave, so bold, so courageous, and you are so loved. To believe the fear, when we know fear lies, to bow to fear even when it tells the truth, is to live half a life. We cannot experience magic if we're always braced for pain, we cannot find ourselves if we keep hiding from what could, what will eventually, hurt. There is such freedom in knowing that we can do all things, be all things, endure all things, that we are here a short time and we get to CHOOSE how we wish to fill that time. What a gift, and when you forget, I will remind you.

Expand full comment
Laura Marsh's avatar

I found today’s Signal Fire particularly inspiring and uplifting (I wish you would publish all of your Sunday ‘essays’ in a single volume). My favourite part is: “Point is, take the risks. Take the leaps. Put yourself out there time and time and time again,..” I should read this at the start of every day. It’s too easy to no longer challenge yourself to be open to new experiences, new people and different ways of doing things as you get older. I know that fear in many forms - primarily of failure or rejection - and probably more in my mind than in reality- has limited me throughout my life but I have been working at recognizing this and saying ‘yes’ to experiences I would have previously declined. I have a framed copy of your Typewriter poem that contains the following: “Bravery is knowing that it is OK to hurt when we accept the salvation place before us, it is ok to be afraid and it is ok to tremble. Do not fear the fall when it is the leaping that will set you free.” I love this poem. Today’s Signal Fire made me think of it.

Expand full comment
Tyler Knott Gregson's avatar

Ah Laura, this is a fantastic idea! A volume of Signal Fire essays! Call it Signal Fire! I could self publish this for certain, maybe do 2 years in each, going back?! You're amazing, and I Love that you're here.

Expand full comment
Laura Marsh's avatar

Or the ones that really resonated with people, judging by the responses.

Expand full comment
mtnrebel's avatar

❤️ Buy the boots, eat the cake...it's why we're here, this being human. Fear is part of this experience. Fear is the ultimate oppressor.

Thank you for sharing, Tyler. I hope you can feel the love as we read your words. Thank you for being a good example for the rest of us. ✨❤️

Expand full comment
Tyler Knott Gregson's avatar

YES TO ALL OF THIS. I hope you can feel MY love for YOU when you're reading the words I write. :)

Expand full comment
Heather Graham's avatar

Oh Tyler, this one fills my heart and soul. Thank you so much for sharing your light with the world. It doesn't seem right that it only "costs" $1.25 to be able to be so inspired and encouraged in such a safe and loving space that you have created. That you put so much of you into each of these essays for the world to see. That you shine your light so brightly and let us know that you too, have known the darkness from which the your light breaks free from. Please know how much this means to me. And I am sure to many other people here. As someone who asks for money professionally, I know it can seem daunting and discouraging sometimes. You question your value and wonder if it's worth it. Please know that it really is. The impact that your words have on people's lives is priceless. And maybe that impact isn't felt as monetization. And sure, you can't really eat it, but I really hope that you feel it, and that it fills you up in your heart and soul with more light so you can keep shining bright!

Also, I will continue to send you random goodies, because $5 is just not enough!

Stay Rad

PS Everyone needs to watch Dying for Sex. It's brilliant.

Expand full comment
Tyler Knott Gregson's avatar

You're so amazing, and you really don't know how much this means. I try so hard to impart value here, and to show people it's worth it. I wish I knew how to get more of the Free subscribers to join us, it'd truly change my life and take away so much worry if I could make a little more money doing this. It takes SO MUCH of my time haha.

Expand full comment
Heather Graham's avatar

Maybe you can add a tip jar button with a link to PayPal/venmo/zelle or whatever so people can add a little extra when it really moves them! That way when people don’t want to commit to a monthly payment they can still make a contribution when they are able to! PayPal might be the best option as it’s most widely used internationally! Just try it out! I think people will be moved to support you more!

Expand full comment
Mom's avatar

I will be forever grateful that you found your bravery! Never doubt!

Expand full comment
Tyler Knott Gregson's avatar

:) Thanks for helping me find it!

Expand full comment
Ellie Herdman's avatar

I needed this reminder today. I generally do a good job of giving fear the middle finger, but lately it's been exhausting and I just want to give up. I'm tired of starting over and being alone.

Expand full comment
Tyler Knott Gregson's avatar

Fear should know every contour of your middle finger. Now, and always.

Expand full comment