An Ode to Risk
Yesterday night, I made a huge leap, despite all the fear that was hobbling me.
It felt so peaceful to do so that I decided to write this short note at this ungodly hour.
Every day, all of us face different crossroads in life upon which a decision needs to be made. Should we reach out again to that old friend with whom we parted ways, for whatever reason? Should we assert our voice in a crowd that tries to drown us out? Should we raise our fists in protest over the continuous depredation of our nation? Should we spend our first salary on fancy food, on the newest iPhone model, or on a well-deserved Baguio vacation? Should we quit from this job or that organization, or continue to do the work?
And so on.
Every day, we face the most crucial questions, the toughest battles, the hardest conversations. Or, at the very least, we face the possibility of facing them — if that makes sense. Oftentimes, whether we like to admit it or not, fear overtakes us, particularly if the situation is volatile, if the choices are blurred, if the future is uncertain.
We now live in a time where most of us are not keen anymore on taking huge leaps, and for the longest time, that crowd includes myself. It’s not bad to wish that a safety net be prepared for us to fall on in case anyone jumps the gun but fails. But the magic of a huge leap lies at the heart of the leap itself.
Risk is fearsome, but it’s also risk that allows us to discover the manifold wonders of life — and of ourselves, too. Risk may often appear as a scarecrow, but it’s also a fuel that pushes us to go beyond the scare itself. Risk can be overwhelmingly unnerving, but it’s also that one aspect of our existence that could calm our nerves.
It’s cliche at this point, but it’s often argued that the only constant thing in the world is change. Nothing is set in stone, nor anything is 100% certain. One of my favorite activist songs, Kontradiksyon, drives the point home: “Kontradiksyon ang pangalan ng ating mundo / sa panahong tiyak palagi ang pagbabago.” What is true today may be false tomorrow, or vice versa. What is accepted today may suddenly be ruled out the next day. What was said today might be withdrawn after.
Uncertainty is a pebble under everyone’s shoe. It’s a huge firewall that prevents decisions to emerge, or to be delayed. For a generation that boasts of social media but lives through high decibels of anxiety, an uncertain circumstance is almost always an invitation to run, to walk back, to choose the ‘flight’ in the fight-or-flight response.
Why spend a fraction of our limited time on something that has no, or only a slim, chance of being a reality?
Here’s what I realized. Certainty does not fall from the sky, to paraphrase Mao. It does not rise from a vacuum. It does not emanate from wishful thinking, or silent murmurs, or quiet musings made in front of the sea during a chilly evening. We can never seek certainty without giving it ourselves, for the quicksand of the certain-and-uncertain cycle cannot be untangled without a decisive affirmation of our own certainty (or even uncertainty?) about something. Or someone.
Faced with the most difficult decisions, we often ask ourselves if any affirmative action would be worth the shot. Is it worthwhile to risk a huge part of ourselves, our emotions, or even our little fortunes on something, or someone, that is unsure? By asking that question over and over again, however, we miss out the little wonders of discovery, of slow processes, of life’s twists and turns themselves.
I agree, we are all afraid to take a chance and fail. Who wants to fail, anyway? Who wants to assert themselves in a situation, only to be or get lost? Who wants to love without being loved back? Only sociopaths could perhaps relish this turn of events. Pero sabi nga minsan ng iba, kung suntok sa buwan na lang din ang isang bagay — o tao, bakit hindi ka pa sumubok na sumuntok? Right?
One time, I came across an Instagram post saying that grief is the price we pay for love. I’d like to add more: it’s also the price we must pay for risk, for chance, for the mere act of trying. We can always try, but there will never be a certain guarantee if the attempt would or could be successful. We can lock and load a gun and it may still not go off. The nouveau riche can make huge bets on Okada or some other casino, and there might even be no return of investment. We can start a business, initiate an action, push forward a noble cause, and the specter of failure is still very much on the table. Why even try, right?
We try because it’s always majestic to take a shot on what we believe in.
Skepticism is a healthy way of grounding ourselves when expectations and signs and everything else that amalgamates little hopes elevate us to improbable proportions, but isn’t hoping always a much better alternative than resigning ourselves to our current vantage point? The world is in a constant flux. Life also is. Isn’t it magical to imagine partaking in the shaping of tomorrow?
Risk is the enemy of the afraid, but it’s also the most solid refuge of the terrified. It allows our frantic selves to look forward for broader horizons, to imagine new possibilities that we would otherwise not even dare to think of, to view a future beyond what our puny selves could understand. We are not inside a static existence. Why not gamble on an uncertain future if only to turn it into a certain tomorrow?
You may ask, what if one strives to risk, but it does not work out? Well, what if it does? It’s a likelihood, too. But that will remain a question unless you do give it a try, regardless of what the result might be. No one will ever be 100% prepared for any decision, but as activists tell each other, kapasyahan palagi bago ang kahandaan.
Sometimes, certainty is asked of us, not something we must ask. Without hope, we would be living a ‘living dead’ existence. Without risk, we would be confident with the mediocre and the prosaic and the bare minimums of life. Without a gamble, we would condemn ourselves to a lifetime of regret and lingering.
We should not fear death, but the fear of death, the Greeks said once. Let me amend that: We should not fear the uncertain, but the fear of uncertainty. We must be more afraid when all that we could feel is fear. Petrified of what the future might bring to our lives, we would be content with what’s present. Is it not sad to carry the notion of our inability to imagine a better tomorrow?
Taking a risk brings us closer to making our life, our relationships, the very core of our world certain. No one but us holds the capacity to struggle dreams into realization, to put ideas into practice, to make our impossible dreams possible. It permits us to take part in creating new realities that could very well end up in our favor. It behooves us to proactively build new directions and connections. Without risks, life would remain an almost endless cycle of terror, of fear, of uncertainty itself; isn’t that a gloomy forecast for us?
Do it. Take that chance, or shot, or risk. Push life to its limits. Take a leap of faith. Jump the gun. You can still do them afraid. You can do all of it with all the anxieties one could muster. The primordial factor, after all, is that you do it. We do it, anyway, against all odds. We hope against hope. We make a difficult, or dreadful, choice with all our heart.
Pondering over the idea of returning to Manila after three years in Boston, amid a bleak future for our nation, Ninoy Aquino once said: “I will never be able to forgive myself if I will have to live with the knowledge that I could have done something, and I did not do anything.” I agree. The biggest sin is to be so immobilized as to forget our innate fascination with the notion of risk. Would anyone else be able to forgive themselves if they live a life rife with ‘what ifs?’
What if we just try and leap and risk it all, then?
