Just stand up!

“We are never definitely right; we can only be sure we are definitely wrong.” ~ Richard Feynman

Most of my friends are both gifted and conflicted by a unique combination: highly sensitive, creative hearts paired with relentlessly analytical minds. Like some cosmic joke, they’re doomed to feel everything deeply while simultaneously getting lost in endless calculations about how to keep their lives comfortably on track.

I was recently chatting with one of them, and we explored how to break free from the ingrained cognitive patterns that trap us—those invisible scripts: the should and should not feelings that, even when we intellectually recognize their absurdity, still hold us captive in their grip of fear and limitation.

Having struggled with the same mental tug-of-war, I shared what I’d learned: the only way past these illusions is action—even tiny steps—in direct defiance of their warnings. Like exposure therapy for anxiety—where someone afraid of elevators might start by simply standing near one, watching people go in and out—each small victory proves to our overprotective thinking minds that their dire predictions are all bark and no bite.

“I get it,” my friend said, his voice shifting with realization. “You mean, fake it ‘til you make it.”

I hesitated for a moment. Wait—faking what, exactly?

For me, understanding often comes through stories. So, I spontaneously launched into a wild but telling one from my own eventful past—a story about Mike and Gary, and a flat-bottomed dinghy.

My parents owned a small summer cottage built on thick wooden pilings over a bay, where the tide ebbed and flowed beneath the back deck. Depending on the time of day, the air carried either whiffs of gasoline from passing motorboats or the briny scent of mudflats exposed at low tide.

The cold, salty water provided welcome relief from the heat, making it a popular gathering place for family and friends. One of those visitors was my father’s friend Mike, who often brought his family—including his gentle, oversized son, Gary.

Gary was caught in that awkward place between boyhood and adulthood, too big for the old treehouse but not yet settled into his size. And on this particular day, that awkwardness would be put to the test.

I don’t recall them actually taking the boat out—a hard-plastic thing that looked barely able to hold the two of them—but I’ll never forget the screams. I ran to the deck, my eyes scanning the water, and saw the overturned boat and the frantic splashing.

“Save Gary!” Mike screamed, treading water and struggling to grab hold of his son. “Save Gary!!”

Gary, flailing and clearly panicked, seemed to be pulling his father under. Then I saw my father sprint to the water’s edge.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Stand up!”

Mike looked at my dad, confused. “What?!”

“Just stand up!”

My father knew what Mike didn’t: the water, at that moment, was only about four feet deep where they were. Gary, panicking, was preventing his father from simply standing. As soon as Mike understood, he stood, pulling Gary up with him. And there they stood, chest-high in seawater. The “rescue” was complete.

My friend and I laughed, recognizing the parallel. We’re not faking anything when we stand up to reality—it’s our fearful minds that are the ones faking us out. We’re simply seeing the true depth of the water, understanding that the imagined danger, much like Mike and Gary’s belief that they were drowning in shallow water, was just an illusion.

And that’s the false trap so many of us fall into. We get lost in our own overactive minds, believing that life is some puzzle we have to work out or goal to achieve before we can move forward. But Feynman’s insight cuts through that illusion: we’ll never be definitely right about how things will unfold, but we can be sure when we are getting it wrong.

So, what do we do?

We save ourselves. We take the next step, even through murky waters. We stop waiting for permission from our anxious thoughts and step fully into life. Because the truth is, the water isn’t as deep as we imagined. And the only way to discover this is to finally stand up.

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Stay passionate!