Fear always tries to put your feelings in charge.

It wants you to wake up in the morning and say, “Do I feel like writing my book today? Do I feel like staying up late and working on my business plan? Do I feel like being more awesome?”

And guess what your feelings are going to tell you?

No.

Feelings are fun and important, but they turn into drunk little jerks when you ask them to run your life.

Awesome is a choice, like loving your spouse or going to work. I don’t wake up each morning and ask myself, “Do I feel like loving Jenny today?” Because guess what, some days the answer is no. My feelings are hungover from some argument or some petty insecurity that’s kicking around my heart. I don’t feel like starting the morning with a ride on a double bike, followed up by a picnic with my wife.

I chose to love my wife. I made a commitment. I honor it with my decisions.

You don’t feel like going to work every day. You don’t call a meeting with your feelings before you leave the house and say, “Hey guys, how we feeling about work today? You feel like the beach instead? OK, that makes three weeks in a row, but what am I going to do. You’re in charge!”

Nope, you go to work. On the mornings you bound out of bed and the mornings you have to drag yourself into that cubicle like it’s a prison.

Don’t let feelings make your choices. Some days, you won’t feel like being awesome. People always seem surprised by that. They ask me if I ever don’t feel like writing. They ask do I ever feel like quitting, or does it ever feel difficult? The answer is yes. On at least 90% of the days, those are the first feelings I have before I sit down with a blank piece of paper.

I might feel great once I get into the middle of the page, but when it’s blank and staring at me with those haughty eyes of sheer nothingness, I feel like quitting before I even write a single word.

But feelings don’t get to make my decisions.

And they shouldn’t make your decisions either.

“You’re not fooling anybody.”

That’s what my friend Thad always says when he sees musicians pretend they don’t care on stage.

You’ve seen the type. They stand up there with a guitar and a face that says, “I don’t even care if you like this song. Whatever. This is stupid. I’ll play it. Whatever.”

And they act like they don’t know how they got there. As if perhaps they were just walking down the street, saw an open stage with a guitar, and picked it up. It doesn’t matter to them. Whatever.

Thad doesn’t buy it. He knows how much they care about that moment. They worked hard to get booked at that venue. They practiced long hours in their bedroom, dreaming up songs and notes. They built elaborate sets in their mind, and shot the movie version of that moment a thousand times.

But fear tells you, if you care too much, you’ll get hurt.

The path to dreaming is littered with apathy shields. Fear will constantly try to hand you one. “Here, this will keep you safe. This will prevent you from being hurt.”

What fear doesn’t tell you is that apathy does form a wall between you and hurt, but that same wall blocks you from joy too. It cuts you off from awesomeness and happiness and the thrill of seeing a tiny piece of your dream come true.

Don’t listen to fear. Apathy is a foe, not a friend, a numbing agent that does not distinguish between joy and pain. Beware the temptation to use it as a shield. It will block you from hope too, not just hurt.

Be excited on stage. Jump on stage. Have fun on stage. That’s Awesome.

One of the biggest questions I get from folks is, “How do I get support for my dream?”

Whether from friends, family members or coworkers, it can feel challenging to get people on board for your particular mission.

But, fear not, I’ve learned something about support recently.

Here is the simple truth:

People help people who help people.

That’s it.

Want someone to help you with your dream?

Help someone else first.

Become a beacon of help first.

Raise your flag first.

Help is a boomerang. And if you’re not constantly throwing it out, it will never come back your way.

Unfortunately, inspiration is not at all like the pizza guy.

Very rarely will it ring your doorbell.

Or knock on your front door.

Or find you on your couch watching a reality show.

But it is not mysterious. In fact, long ago Picasso told us all where inspiration could be found. And I agree.

Adversity is a comma in our story, not a period.

It is not the end…often, it is the point at which the story really gets good.

After all, cloudless skies make for boring sunsets.

Safe adventures make for boring stories.

Don’t believe me? Ask Dave.

Want to be a master?

Want to be the best in your field, your city, your planet?

Want to do something great?

Study greatness.

Like Hunter S. Thompson typing out The Great Gatsby, so he knew what great writing “felt like,” find some heroes and do what they do.

Paint someone else’s painting.

Be an apprentice.

Buck the trend of entitlement and be led.

Be mentored.

Be taught.

Set up an easel, like these people did in a museum I visited, and learn how to paint someone else’s masterpiece before you paint your own.