The fear that kills life

 

Paolo Cugini

 

“Sir, here is your gold coin, which I kept hidden in a handkerchief; I was afraid of you, for you are a harsh man.” (Luke 19:20-21)

There is a subtle fear, which creeps silently through hearts and minds, capable of extinguishing dreams before they have even found a voice. It is the fear that kills life. Not a concrete threat or a real danger, but an invisible presence that slowly erodes trust, desire, and hope. In an era where everything seems to be measured, evaluated, classified, the fear of living is born as the offspring of the fear of making mistakes. And so the spark of life is snuffed out, like a candle smothered by the wind of doubt.

At the root of the fear of living lies the fear of making mistakes. In a society that raises the culture of merit as the supreme rule, error is no longer seen as an integral part of the human journey, but as an indelible stain on one’s reputation and personal value. The message is clear: those who make mistakes are out, those who fall are left behind. Trapped in this logic, we quickly learn to fear every misstep, to avoid every risk, to never truly put ourselves to the test. Thus, life becomes a minefield where every decision is laden with anxiety, and every attempt can turn into a sentence.

When fear prevails, the first victim is talent. How many gifts remain buried beneath layers of shyness and insecurity? How many dreams never find a voice, suffocated by the fear of judgement or the risk of failing? Instead of blossoming, we close ourselves off, building walls that separate us from others and, above all, from what we could become. We do not experiment, we do not dare, we do not live. It is as if a tree refused to bear fruit for fear that the wind might make them fall. But the real tragedy is not falling; it is never having tried to climb.

There is an ancient truth that transcends the ages: life is a gift. And a gift, by its nature, asks to be received, lived, transformed. To give the gift back means renouncing living it; it means declaring, perhaps without words, that we do not feel worthy, that we do not desire enough. It is like returning a seed to the earth without ever having tried to sow it. Behind this act lies a lack of deep desire, a lost trust in life’s possibilities. Yet betraying the gift is the greatest offence we can commit against our own existence.

Desire is the silent engine that pushes humanity beyond its limits. Where there is desire, there is movement, openness, hope. Healthy desire is what invites us to take risks, to explore, to have a go. It does not spring from arrogance, but from a profound awareness that life, to be truly lived, must be experienced in all its shades. To renounce desire, to extinguish it for fear of making mistakes, is like choosing not to breathe for fear of choking.

There is life even in error, there is growth even in failure—perhaps even more than elsewhere. Those who do not make mistakes do not live. Those who do not fall do not learn. Failure is not the end, but a passage, an open door to new possibilities. In the cracks of error, the strength to start again takes root, along with the wisdom of those who have dared. Only those who risk truly know the depths of life and experience the secret joy that comes from rising after a fall.

The fear that kills life can only be overcome by cultivating the courage to take risks, the willingness to experiment, and faith in the possibilities hidden in each day. To live fully does not mean never making mistakes, but allowing ourselves the luxury to search, to desire, to fall and rise again. True death is renunciation, apathy, closing in on ourselves. Let us dare, then: let us trust in desire, experiment with our talents, and embrace the gift of life. Only then does fear become an ally, a travelling companion, and no longer our jailer. True life belongs to those who have the courage to live it.