Facing Fear with Self-Inquiry: A Yogic Perspective
I remember gripping the armrest of my seat, my heart pounding as the plane took off. I was on my way to a yoga teacher training, and although it was something I had longed for, all I could feel was fear. I was scared to be alone, scared to meet new people, scared to feel whatever was buried inside me. At one point during the flight, a thought broke through the noise in my head: “Wow, what a mess I am.” That moment didn’t fix anything, but it opened something. I realized I had a choice: I could keep moving through life driven by fear, or I could find a new way. A way to understand myself and enjoy life as it is.
Fear often shows up in a period of transition, like the loss of someone we love, the end of a relationship, or when our children grow up and leave home, but also when we start or finish a project. These moments disrupt the familiar and confront us with questions we didn’t expect: What now? Who am I if not that role?
For me, each transition brought an invitation—not to fill the void with doing, but to pause. To listen. To ask what truly matters. Fear arises when we shift from our own truth, values, or Self.
Fear is a physiological and emotional response to perceived danger. Sometimes it’s real. But it is also imagined. Fear can arise from:
Real, immediate threats
Imagined future harm or pain
Past unprocessed experiences
Cultural and familial conditioning
a disconnection from spirit—whether that means faith in life, in ourselves, or in something greater.
But fear, I’ve come to understand, is not something to avoid; it’s something to listen to, with curiosity, patience, and compassion. Fear can be a teacher, if we’re willing to listen.
Ego versus Intellect
Yogic psychology describes two main mental functions: the Ego and the Intellect. The Ego tries to protect us—it clings to what it knows, even when what it knows no longer serves us. It generates fear through a sense of lack: not enough time, not enough love, not enough control.
But when we pause and breathe, we access the Intellect. The Intellect discerns. It doesn’t react—it reflects. It helps us see what’s true in the moment, rather than reliving the past or predicting the worst.
Fear doesn’t disappear, but our response changes when we tap into our Intellect.
Yoga offers a path called Svadhyaya—self-inquiry. It’s one of the five Niyamas, or personal observances, outlined in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. Sutra II.44 tells us, “From self-study comes communion with one’s chosen form of God.” For me, Svadhyaya means that we reflect on our thoughts, actions, and patterns, not just reading philosophical texts, and we start to align with a deeper, wiser part of ourselves. This connection gives clarity, purpose, and inner guidance.
Modern thinkers like Byron Katie, Eckhart Tolle, and Don Miguel Ruiz offered tools to explore these inner landscapes, too. They helped me ask questions such as: What is real? What is just a story? Who would I be without this fear?
What This Looks Like in Daily Life
It can start by noticing where we hold tension in our body and asking where it is coming from.
One of my earliest teachers was my own body.
Since a dentist hurt me during a procedure, checking if the nerve of a broken tooth was alive, I developed a visceral fear of dentist appointments. For years, I’d brace myself in the chair, tense and anxious. One day, I chose to stay with the present moment instead of dwelling on past experiences. I was putting the Ego second so I could experience with the Intellect’s discernment. I softened and heard myself: “This moment is new. I am not hurting. The dentist is careful, and I don’t feel any pain.” It worked. I relaxed, trusted, and stepped away from fear.
More recently, I found myself facing a different kind of fear. I was considering a leap in my services: training as a life coach after years of teaching yoga and consulting in nutrition and wellness. I was afraid to make the wrong decision, afraid to lose the authenticity I had built over decades. Yoga had been my companion for 27 years; would becoming a coach mean turning my back on that path?
I sat with the questions. I listened to the fear in my body. I let it speak. And then something softened. I realized I didn’t have to become someone else—I could expand who I already was. I could be a teacher, a consultant, and a coach, depending on what my clients need. I didn’t have to choose one or the other. Once again, self-inquiry helped me move from fear to clarity.
Self-study can be supported through various methods, including journaling, meditation, studying spiritual texts, therapy, coaching, or simply talking with a friend.
Self-Inquiry Prompts for You
If journaling helps you reflect, here are some prompts:
What am I afraid of right now?
What is this fear really about?
Is it true—or a story I’ve learned to believe?
Is this fear tied to the past, or is it alive in the present?
Who am I without this fear?
What am I ready to release concerning this fear?
Let the answers come slowly. No need to fix anything. Just begin by noticing.
Through self-inquiry, we can study fear as a doorway, not a wall. Every time it shows up, fear invites us to look deeper into old stories, inherited beliefs, and forgotten truths. Fears will continue to visit me, but we can meet them differently. Let’s breathe. listen. and ask: What are you here to show me?