We must travel in the direction of our fear.

John Berryman, the poet scarred by struggle yet luminous with truth, once declared: “We must travel in the direction of our fear.” These words are a summons to courage, a command to confront rather than flee. For fear is not merely an enemy—it is a compass. It points us toward the very places where growth waits, where transformation dwells. To move away from fear is to remain stagnant; to step toward it is to awaken the deeper self.

The ancients knew this truth well. In the myths of Greece, it was always through the cave of dread that the hero found his treasure. Perseus faced the Gorgon, though to look upon her was death. Theseus descended into the labyrinth, though the Minotaur awaited with monstrous strength. Odysseus sailed toward Scylla and Charybdis, though both promised ruin. The path of the hero was not the path of safety, but the path of terror. To travel in the direction of fear was to find destiny.

History too gives us testimony. Consider Rosa Parks, who one day refused to surrender her seat. Her body trembled, but she walked into the fire of fear, and in so doing became a spark for the Civil Rights Movement. Or think of Nelson Mandela, imprisoned for decades, who emerged not with vengeance but with forgiveness. He had walked straight toward the thing most feared—captivity, loss of years—and yet in enduring it, he found a freedom greater than any chains could bind. These lives reveal what Berryman knew: to advance toward fear is to step into greatness.

Berryman himself was no stranger to the shadow. His life was heavy with despair, his words often drenched in sorrow. Yet from his turmoil came this paradox of wisdom. He understood that fear must not be fled from, for it is the veil that guards the threshold of growth. To hide from it is to die slowly; to face it is to live fully, even if the path is painful. His counsel is not gentle, but it is honest: true living demands that we set our feet toward the place where our hearts quake.

The meaning, then, is clear. Fear shows us where our soul resists. It marks the edge of our comfort, the walls of our prison. By moving toward it—whether it is the fear of failure, of rejection, of pain—we enlarge ourselves. To step into fear is to declare: I am more than my trembling; I am more than the shadow that stalks me. Each stride into fear becomes a stride into strength.

The lesson for all who hear is powerful: do not curse your fear, but use it as a compass. Ask yourself: what do I fear most? Is it to speak the truth aloud? To begin the work I have delayed? To face the pain I have long buried? That is the road. That is where your journey must lead. For beyond the fear lies freedom. Beyond the terror lies transformation. Beyond the trembling lies triumph.

Practical action follows. Each day, choose one act that leans into fear. Speak to the person whose opinion matters. Begin the work that seems impossible. Stand firm where you once would have shrunk. You need not conquer the world in one moment—only take the step. For courage is not the absence of fear, but the act of walking toward it, step after trembling step.

Thus John Berryman’s words resound like an ancient oracle: “We must travel in the direction of our fear.” Take them not as poetry alone, but as commandment. For the road of safety leads only to smallness, but the road of fear leads to glory. Walk it, and you will discover not only the treasure beyond, but the strength that was within you all along.