If you don't find time to meditate and get all that negative

Hear the words of Nate Diaz, forged in the fires of combat, who declared: “If you don't find time to meditate and get all that negative out, and if you don't have the right people being positive around you, this is a very scary job to have if you don't learn how to control your fear.” These words, spoken from the heart of a warrior, reveal not only the discipline of the body but also the mastery of the mind. For in the arena of struggle—whether in sport, in battle, or in life itself—the fiercest enemy is not the opponent before you, but the turmoil within.

To meditate is to cleanse the soul, to still the storm, to release the poison of fear and anger that accumulates in the heart. Without this sacred practice of renewal, the fighter becomes consumed by his own darkness, striking not with clarity but with confusion. Diaz reminds us that victory begins not with fists or weapons, but with an inner quiet, where the self becomes unshaken, steady as a mountain against the winds of doubt. To drive out the negative is to make space for strength and wisdom.

Yet meditation alone is not enough. The soul, though strong, is shaped by those around it. To have the right people being positive is to be fortified by fellowship, to be reminded of courage when despair creeps in, to be lifted up when the burden is heavy. Even the greatest of champions falters without allies who speak light into their darkness. Here Diaz teaches that community is not luxury but necessity, for no warrior truly stands alone.

History provides shining testimony. Consider the samurai of old Japan, who not only trained their bodies for war but practiced Zen meditation to discipline their minds. They knew that fear, left unchecked, could destroy even the most skilled fighter. By calming the spirit, they transformed fear into focus. Surrounded by comrades who shared their code of honor, they found strength in unity, and their legacy endures as proof of the power of inner stillness and positive brotherhood.

So too in modern history we remember Muhammad Ali, who faced not only opponents in the ring but also hatred, rejection, and doubt beyond it. He proclaimed himself “The Greatest,” not out of arrogance alone but as an act of defiance against fear. He surrounded himself with people who spoke belief into him, who fed his vision when the world sought to break it. His victories came not only from physical talent but from mastering his mind, silencing negativity, and walking in the strength of his chosen circle.

The meaning of Diaz’s words is thus: the world is a battlefield of fear, and unless you learn to govern your inner life, it will overwhelm you. To control fear is not to eliminate it, but to transform it into focus, to walk into danger with clarity and calm. Without this mastery, every challenge becomes terrifying; with it, even the fiercest trial becomes an opportunity to rise. This wisdom is not for fighters alone but for all who face hardship in the arena of daily life.

The lesson for us is clear: make time each day to quiet the mind, to let go of bitterness and fear. Surround yourself with companions who encourage, not diminish, who remind you of your strength rather than your weakness. And above all, learn to meet fear not with panic, but with discipline—acknowledge its presence, but refuse it dominion. In this way, life itself ceases to be “a very scary job,” and instead becomes a stage upon which courage is born.

So let it be remembered: Nate Diaz’s words are the creed of warriors in all walks of life. To meditate, to cleanse negativity, to walk among the positive, and to master fear—these are not luxuries but essentials. For in the end, the greatest victories are not over others, but over the trembling heart within. Master this, and no battlefield—whether of fists, of fate, or of the soul—will ever conquer you.