The two great risks are risking too much but also risking too

“The two great risks are risking too much but also risking too little. That's for each person to decide. For me, not risking anything is worse than death. By far.” Thus spoke Jimmy Chin, the climber, explorer, and artist whose life has been a dialogue with the edge of existence. In these words lies not recklessness, but the deep wisdom of one who has gazed into the abyss and found meaning there. He reminds us that to live is to risk — and that both extremes, too much and too little, are perilous. One may fall by daring too far, but far more die each day in the silence of safety, their spirits starved by fear.

To risk is to declare that life is worth the danger of loss. Since the dawn of humankind, the bold have stepped beyond the boundaries of comfort — the hunter into the storm, the sailor upon uncharted seas, the thinker against the weight of the world’s beliefs. It was not certainty that forged civilization, but courage. Those who feared risk built walls; those who embraced it built horizons. Yet Chin, in his measured wisdom, does not glorify blind daring. He speaks instead of balance — the eternal dance between prudence and passion. The art of life, he teaches, is not to avoid risk, but to choose it wisely, as a sculptor chooses where to strike the marble.

In the old epics, heroes were not those who survived unscathed, but those who chose to act despite the danger. Achilles knew his fate and went to Troy; Odysseus risked the wrath of gods for the longing of home; even the philosophers risked exile and death for the truth. To live without risk was to live without glory — and without meaning. Yet Chin brings this ancient truth into the modern heart: for him, the mountains are not just peaks of stone, but mirrors of the soul. Each ascent is a question — how much are you willing to give for what you love? And his answer is clear: to give nothing is to lose everything.

Consider the story of Sir Ernest Shackleton, the explorer who led his men through the frozen desolation of Antarctica. When their ship, the Endurance, was crushed by ice, he risked all — traversing hundreds of miles in open seas to bring his crew to safety. He could have waited and hoped for rescue; instead, he chose the perilous path, and every man under his command survived. That is the kind of risk Chin speaks of: not foolish, but faithful — the risk that honors life by engaging it fully, even when the odds are cruel.

Yet there is another kind of death, quieter and more treacherous — the death of those who risk too little. They live behind invisible walls, ruled by the voice of caution. They trade passion for comfort, dreams for certainty, and call it wisdom. But as Chin says, not risking anything is worse than death. For the body may live, but the spirit rots. To never dare is to never grow; to never leap is to never truly stand upon the earth. Safety, when worshiped, becomes a prison — a gilded cage in which the heart forgets how to beat.

Life, then, is not measured by the years we keep, but by the risks we embrace with purpose. Every love is a risk of heartbreak. Every dream, a risk of failure. Every truth, a risk of rejection. But in these risks lies the spark of being alive. As the ancients knew, the gods favored those who dared — for daring is the language of creation itself. The one who risks nothing has already surrendered to fate; the one who risks wisely shapes destiny with his own hands.

Lesson: Do not flee from risk, but learn to know it. Let it sharpen your spirit, not consume it. Ask yourself, as Jimmy Chin did: What is worth the danger of loss? Then live for that answer. Risk your comfort for your calling, your fear for your freedom, your silence for your truth. For though risk may bring pain, it also brings awakening — and to live without awakening is the truest death of all.

So walk the knife-edge bravely, child of the earth. Balance your fear with faith, your caution with courage. For the soul that risks with wisdom walks not toward death, but toward eternity — where every daring act becomes a prayer of life fulfilled.