Moving Toward Fear with Absurd Courage

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Embrace the absurdity of fear and move toward what frightens you. — Albert Camus
Embrace the absurdity of fear and move toward what frightens you. — Albert Camus

Embrace the absurdity of fear and move toward what frightens you. — Albert Camus

What lingers after this line?

One-minute reflection

Why might this line matter today, not tomorrow?

Camus and the Absurd Starting Point

Camus’s line begins with a typically absurdist premise: fear is not merely an obstacle to be eliminated but a strange, unavoidable feature of being alive. To “embrace the absurdity” is to recognize that we can crave safety in a world that offers no final guarantees, and that this mismatch creates anxiety. From there, the instruction to move toward what frightens you reads less like reckless bravado and more like a sober acceptance of life’s terms. In The Myth of Sisyphus (1942), Camus frames lucidity as seeing the world clearly without retreating into comforting illusions; here, lucidity means admitting fear is real and still choosing action.

Why Running from Fear Makes It Larger

Avoidance often turns fear into a kind of shadow that expands with every attempt to escape it. The mind fills in gaps with catastrophic predictions, and the very act of dodging a situation teaches you that it must be dangerous, even when the risk is manageable. This is why Camus’s phrasing matters: fear has an “absurdity” to it because it can persist long after the facts have changed. When you repeatedly cross the street to avoid a conversation, a performance, or a decision, the threat becomes mythic. Moving toward it interrupts the feedback loop and replaces imagination with reality, which is usually more workable than the dread you’ve been rehearsing.

Courage as a Practice, Not a Mood

The quote suggests courage is not the absence of fear but the willingness to act while fear is present. That distinction is liberating, because it means you don’t have to wait to feel ready. Instead, you treat bravery as repetition: small approaches that train the nervous system and clarify what you can handle. In everyday terms, this might look like making the phone call you’ve postponed all week, submitting the draft before it feels perfect, or walking into the room where you expect criticism. Each act is modest, yet it carries Camus’s philosophical weight: you affirm your agency precisely where you are tempted to surrender it.

An Exposure Logic Hidden in the Aphorism

Although Camus wasn’t writing a therapy manual, his advice aligns with the logic behind exposure-based approaches in psychology, where feared situations are approached gradually to reduce avoidance and restore functioning. By moving toward the feared object, you learn through experience that discomfort can rise and fall without destroying you. Importantly, the point is not to “win” by feeling nothing; it is to learn that fear can be carried. This fits the absurdist posture: you don’t demand a final cure for anxiety, but you refuse to let anxiety become the governor of your life.

The Freedom Found on the Other Side of Fear

As you practice approaching what frightens you, fear often changes shape: it becomes information rather than fate. You begin to distinguish between genuine danger and mere vulnerability—between a cliff edge and a hard conversation. That discrimination is a form of maturity, and it’s one reason the act of moving toward fear can feel like reclaiming freedom. Camus’s broader ethic implies that meaning is made through choices, not discovered as a prewritten script. When you step toward fear—despite uncertainty—you create a personal proof that your life is not solely a reaction. The absurd remains, but you become less governed by it.

Limits, Wisdom, and What ‘Toward’ Should Mean

Moving toward fear is not a command to pursue harm; it is a call to confront what blocks your growth. The difference matters: some fears warn you accurately, while others simply protect a fragile self-image. “Toward” can mean a calibrated approach—testing, preparing, and seeking support—rather than leaping blindly. Seen this way, Camus’s counsel is both stern and humane. You accept that fear will visit, sometimes irrationally, and you meet it without theatrics. Then, step by step, you act anyway—turning the absurdity of fear into a stage for chosen courage.