What Would You Do If You Weren't Afraid?

What Would You Do If You Weren't Afraid? Plot Summary

Introduction

Fear is perhaps the most common human experience that limits our potential. It manifests in countless forms—fear of failure, rejection, inadequacy, or simply the unknown. Yet throughout history, the most transformative journeys have begun when individuals dared to ask themselves what life could be like if they weren't held back by their fears. Michal Oshman's journey exemplifies this universal struggle, moving from a life dominated by anxiety to one guided by purpose and spiritual connection. Born in Israel to Holocaust survivors, Oshman carried the weight of generational trauma alongside her personal anxieties. Despite outward success as a leadership consultant for major corporations, she found herself trapped in cycles of fear and self-doubt. Her transformation began with a simple question displayed on a wall at Facebook, where she had just started working: "What would you do if you weren't afraid?" This catalyzed her exploration of Jewish wisdom traditions, particularly Hasidic teachings about the soul, purpose, and meaning. Through principles like tzimtzum (making space for others), bittul (self-nullification to find purpose), and tikkun (repair of self and world), she discovered a framework for moving beyond fear toward a life of deeper connection and purpose.

Chapter 1: The Discovery: Finding Light in a World of Fear

Michal Oshman's life appeared to be a classic success story from the outside. Born in Israel to accomplished parents, she had served as a commanding officer in the Israeli army, earned multiple university degrees, married a loving husband, and built a successful career coaching leadership talent at prestigious companies. Yet beneath this polished exterior, Oshman suffered from debilitating anxiety that permeated every aspect of her existence. Her mind would naturally drift to worst-case scenarios: if a friend was visiting, she imagined them dying in a car accident on the way; when signing permission slips for her children's school trips, she felt as if she were signing their death sentences. The roots of her anxiety were deeply embedded in her childhood experiences. Her father was Israel's top forensic pathologist, whose work exposed him daily to the darkest aspects of humanity. Young Michal occasionally glimpsed horrific crime scene photographs spilling from his briefcase. Her grandparents were Holocaust survivors whose traumatic experiences had left permanent psychological scars that affected the entire family. Growing up in this environment, combined with Israel's constant threat of terror attacks, created in Michal a worldview where death seemed more likely than life. Traditional therapy proved ineffective for addressing Michal's deep-seated anxiety. Her therapists focused almost exclusively on her past traumas, which resulted in a painful cycle of revisiting childhood wounds without providing tools for moving forward. After years of therapy that only seemed to worsen her condition, Michal realized she needed a different approach. Though she could sense a spark of joy hidden deep within herself, her therapists dismissed this feeling as avoidance of her "real issues." A turning point came when Michal discovered Viktor Frankl's book "Man's Search for Meaning." Frankl, who had survived Nazi concentration camps, believed that finding meaning and purpose was the key to human resilience and happiness. This resonated with Michal, who was beginning to question whether constantly looking backward was truly the path to healing. Shortly after joining Facebook and seeing that provocative question on the wall—"What would you do if you weren't afraid?"—she found herself drawn to explore Jewish wisdom traditions that offered a completely different perspective on fear, purpose, and meaning. Through a chance recommendation, Michal attended a class on Jewish spiritual texts taught by a Hasidic rabbi. There, she encountered the concept of the soul as a flame that "naturally flickers upwards," constantly striving to detach itself from material constraints. This powerful metaphor helped her see her inner anxiety not as damage from childhood, but as part of the human condition—the soul's perpetual yearning to grow and transcend limitations. This was the beginning of her journey toward replacing fear with purpose and meaning, a journey that would transform not only her personal life but her approach to leadership and relationships as well.

Chapter 2: The Soul's Flame: Reconnecting with Your True Essence

The transformative shift in Michal Oshman's approach to healing began when she discovered the Hebrew concept of neshama—the soul. Where Western psychotherapy had focused exclusively on examining her past traumas, the Jewish wisdom tradition offered something profoundly different: the understanding that each person carries within them a divine essence, a soul that exists beyond the sum of their life experiences. This revelation was precisely what Michal had intuited all along, even as a seven-year-old child seeing a corpse in her father's morgue and wondering, "Where are all that dead man's feelings now? Is it just gone?" In Hebrew, the word neshama is related to the word for "breath," connecting to the Torah description of God breathing life into the first human. This breath of God represents the soul—the divine spark within each person. Unlike the body, which is affected by worldly concerns such as status, wealth, and appearance, the soul remains focused on spiritual matters: growth, transcendence, and fulfillment. The concept helped Michal understand why material success had never alleviated her anxiety—she had been nourishing her physical existence while neglecting her soul's needs. Jewish mysticism introduced Michal to the concept of kelipa, meaning "shell," which represents the barrier obscuring the soul. This shell consists of mundane concerns like money, career advancement, and social acceptance—precisely the things many of us stake our happiness on. The soul, however, remains oblivious to these external measures of success and is immune to the fears they generate. Discovering that there was a powerful essence inside her when fear was taking over her life was transformative for Michal. For years she had been disconnected from herself, focusing on revisiting trauma rather than nurturing her soul. Another pivotal concept for Michal was Ayeka—Hebrew for "Where are you?" This was God's question to Adam after he sinned in the Garden of Eden. Rather than asking "What have you done?" (focusing on blame), God asked Adam where he was existentially. This shifted Michal's perspective from endlessly examining what had gone wrong in her past to asking where she was on her journey now. The question invited self-reflection rather than self-blame, emphasizing who she was becoming rather than what had happened to her. The Jewish understanding of the soul as one's true essence revolutionized Michal's approach to healing. She realized that her anxiety was not her identity—it was just one aspect of her experience. Her soul—her neshama—was her authentic self that existed before and beyond her traumas. This didn't mean denying her past or the real impact it had on her, but rather recognizing that those experiences didn't define her eternal essence. With this new perspective, Michal began to see herself not as damaged or broken, but as a soul on a journey of growth and purpose, with the intrinsic capacity to move beyond fear toward fulfillment.

Chapter 3: Beyond the Self: Replacing Fear with Purpose

Viktor Frankl's experiences in Nazi concentration camps led him to a profound discovery about human resilience. When a fellow prisoner confided that he saw no reason to live, Frankl responded with a perspective-shifting question: "It might be the case that you have nothing to expect from life. But isn't it conceivable that life expects something of you?" This simple reframing—from what one needs from life to what life needs from them—resonated deeply with Michal Oshman as she sought to overcome her anxiety and find meaning. The Jewish concept that aligned with Frankl's insight is called bittul, which roughly translates as "self-nullification" or "nothingness." Contrary to how it might sound, bittul isn't about erasing oneself or denying personal value. Rather, it suggests that to grow spiritually, one must create space inside for something beyond self-interest. It's a mindset shift from "I am everything" to "I am not everything." When Michal focused solely on herself—her achievements, mistakes, anxieties—she remained trapped in fear. But when she began focusing on how she could use her talents and experiences for others' benefit, she started feeling more fulfilled. This approach offers a completely different perspective on what Frankl called the "existential vacuum"—the void of meaninglessness that causes anxiety and sadness. Through the lens of bittul, this vacuum isn't emptiness at all; it comes from being too full—of ourselves. The solution isn't to add more—pursuing endless personal satisfaction—but to take away, to empty oneself of ego and make room for purpose. By understanding that her role wasn't just about getting something from life but giving something to it, Michal began replacing fear with purpose. Michal experienced this principle firsthand as a teenager when she volunteered as a "big sister" to a child living in a women's shelter. The girl had witnessed domestic violence and needed time away from the enclosed environment of the shelter. Their Friday excursions became deeply meaningful not only for the child but for Michal as well. By shifting focus away from her own anxieties to helping someone else, Michal found a purpose that brought her joy and perspective. Years later, she would recognize this as bittul in action—self-nullification that paradoxically led to fulfillment. A practical way to embrace this balance between self-importance and humility comes from Rabbi Simcha Bunim's teaching that everyone should carry two notes, one in each pocket: "The world was created for me" in one pocket, and "I am but dust and ashes" in the other. This dual awareness helps navigate life's challenges. When Michal didn't receive an expected promotion, she read her "dust and ashes" note, reminding herself she wasn't the center of the universe. When hesitating to write this book, feeling unqualified, she reached for the note saying the world was created for her, reminding herself of her unique mission to share these teachings. Finding purpose requires discovering your strengths—not just what you're good at, but activities that make you feel energized and in flow. For Michal, these included helping others grow and building strong organizational cultures. By aligning her career with these strengths and focusing on what she could contribute rather than what she could gain, Michal found that her anxiety gradually lost its grip. The fear didn't completely disappear, but it was now counterbalanced by something stronger: a sense of purpose.

Chapter 4: Crossing Bridges: Moving Forward Despite Uncertainty

The concept of gesher tzar me'od—"a very narrow bridge"—comes from the teachings of Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, an 18th-century Hasidic leader. His famous saying, "The whole world is a very narrow bridge, and the main thing is to have no fear at all," captured a profound truth about overcoming anxiety. Life often stretches before us like a steep, seemingly unconquerable path. The Jewish wisdom Michal discovered didn't promise to eliminate these challenging paths—instead, it offered a radical solution: keep moving forward despite the fear. This principle transformed Michal's approach to anxiety. For years, she had been paralyzed by fear, unable to escape her internal "narrow straits" (mitzrayim). Rebbe Nachman's teaching showed her that anxiety wouldn't be solved by standing still. She needed to replace fear with action—to cross her personal bridges, no matter how narrow or frightening they appeared. This wasn't about recklessly charging ahead, but about taking thoughtful steps forward rather than remaining frozen in place. One powerful Jewish concept that embodies this approach is na'ase v'nishma—"we will do, and we will hear." This phrase, from Exodus 24:7, describes how the Israelites accepted the Torah before even hearing what it would require of them. They committed to action first, understanding later. Michal found this idea inspiring in a world where many of us overanalyze rather than act. While she wasn't suggesting blind commitment, she recognized how often our generation expects perfect information and guaranteed success before taking even small steps forward. Michal applied this wisdom to various "bridges" in her life. When her then-boyfriend (now husband) wanted to study in London, requiring her to leave her established career in Israel and start over, she took that leap despite her fears. It wasn't easy rebuilding her professional life from scratch, starting as a receptionist at a spa, but gradually she climbed the career ladder again. Later, when she began exploring Jewish spirituality, she took small actions without fully understanding why—like lighting Shabbat candles—and found that the action itself led to greater understanding and connection. This principle proves especially valuable when facing our fear of failure. In Michal's role at Facebook, she embraced the company motto "Fail harder," which neutralizes fear by acknowledging that failure is not only acceptable but necessary for growth. When she made mistakes in her leadership approach during a high-pressure project, her manager congratulated her: "You landed on your first failure." He encouraged her to learn from it rather than be defined by it. This approach—moving forward despite the risk of failure—became central to Michal's professional vision and personal growth. Whether crossing literal bridges like relocating to a new country or metaphorical ones like taking on new responsibilities, the principle remains the same: movement is the antidote to fear. As Michal learned to identify both the dramatic, life-changing bridges and the smaller, everyday ones that blend into the scenery of life, she developed the courage to cross them all. By replacing fear with action, she discovered that the first step is often the hardest, but also the most essential for growth and transformation.

Chapter 5: Growing Through Brokenness: Finding Wholeness in Imperfection

At twenty-three, Michal fell deeply in love with a man she believed was "the one." She had opened herself completely, sharing her fears and vulnerabilities. When he unexpectedly ended their relationship, telling her "I love you, but you're not the one," her heart shattered. The pain was so intense that Michal lost significant weight and lost faith in ever loving again. For two years, she believed her heart could never be mended—that she would remain broken forever. Years later, Michal discovered a life-changing principle about brokenness (shvira in Hebrew) that offered a revolutionary perspective: "There is nothing more complete than a broken heart." This counterintuitive wisdom from Rabbi Menachem Mendel Morgenstern suggests that when a heart breaks, the cracks between the pieces become spaces where wisdom, maturity, and strength can grow. Rather than trying to eliminate her brokenness or return to her previous state, Michal learned to see how these painful experiences had made her more complete. This perspective extends beyond romantic heartbreak to all forms of suffering and imperfection. In Jewish thought, the perpetual conflict between our good inclination (yetzer tov) and bad inclination (yetzer hara) can make us feel broken inside. But this struggle is precisely what we are designed for—to learn, to self-correct, to grow. What feels like brokenness is what makes us human. The key is to never stop believing we can improve, to view our struggling, conflicted inclinations as opportunities for growth rather than flaws to be hidden. The value of broken things is beautifully illustrated in the story of Moses and the tablets. When Moses descended Mount Sinai with the Ten Commandments and found the Israelites worshipping a golden calf, he shattered the tablets in anger. Later, after God forgave the people, Moses received a second set of tablets. What's remarkable is that the broken pieces of the original tablets weren't discarded—they were kept alongside the whole tablets in the Ark of the Covenant, in the holiest place. This teaches that brokenness and wholeness belong together; indeed, wholeness is built out of brokenness. Viktor Frankl's story provides another powerful example of growing through brokenness. After surviving Auschwitz, Frankl learned that his beloved wife had died in another concentration camp. His grief was overwhelming, yet he found a way forward by discovering a new purpose: sharing his psychological insights from the camps with the world. His equation "D = S-M" (Despair equals Suffering without Meaning) encapsulates the idea that suffering becomes unbearable only when it lacks purpose. By finding meaning in his pain, Frankl transformed his brokenness into a gift that has helped millions. Accepting imperfection applies to our everyday lives as well. When Michal caught herself feeling jealous of a childhood acquaintance during Yom Kippur (the holiest day in Judaism), she initially felt ashamed of these thoughts. Later, she learned from the Baal Shem Tov that such "strange thoughts" arise precisely because the soul wants us to self-correct—bringing negative thoughts to the surface at quiet, reflective moments when we're sure to notice them. Even our most uncomfortable thoughts can be transformed into vehicles for growth when viewed through this lens of wholeness through brokenness.

Chapter 6: Creating Sacred Space: For Others and Yourself

Early in her marriage, Michal tried to impose her vision of what their relationship should be, based on her parents' marriage. She assumed she knew all the answers about how their life together should look, leaving little room for her husband's perspective or for them to develop their own unique approach. "Stop comparing us to your parents," her husband would say. "You can't assume that just because your parents have a good marriage, you know it all." This pattern of taking up too much space—mentally and emotionally—extended beyond her marriage into other relationships. Michal's breakthrough came through understanding the Jewish mystical concept of tzimtzum, which means "contraction" or "concealment." This profound idea describes how God created the world: before creation, God's infinite light (Ohr Ein Sof) filled all existence, leaving no room for anything else. To create the world, God performed tzimtzum—contracting His presence to make space for His creations. This divine act of self-limitation offers a powerful model for human relationships: sometimes we must contract ourselves to create space for others to exist and flourish. The beauty of tzimtzum is that it challenges our fear that making space for others will somehow diminish us. In fact, the opposite occurs—when we limit our dominance, influence, or control in relationships, we often become more impactful and fulfilled. Michal applied this principle to her marriage by learning to step back, listen, and make room for her husband's perspectives. Instead of competing for space, they began creating a "void of potential" where they could build their own togetherness. This principle extends to parenting, leadership, and all relationships. For leaders, practicing tzimtzum means recognizing when to hold back their expertise or authority to allow team members to grow. For parents, it means giving children space to develop their own identities rather than imposing predetermined paths. Michal learned that true presence doesn't mean taking up all available space—it means being attentive to others' needs and thoughtfully adjusting how much of ourselves we present. A poignant childhood memory illustrates tzimtzum in action: whenever young Michal had nightmares, she would walk to her parents' bedroom door. Without a word being spoken, her mother would sense her presence, open her eyes, and shuffle closer to Michal's father to make space for her frightened daughter. This simple act of making room—of contracting oneself for another's needs—became a model for Michal's understanding of love and care. The concept of tzimtzum challenges our evidence-based world where visibility and assertion are prized. It suggests that concealing can be as impactful as revealing, that absence can be as powerful as presence. When we practice tzimtzum, we acknowledge that sometimes the greatest gift we can give others is space—space to express different voices, feelings, and ideas, free of judgment and ego. And paradoxically, by contracting ourselves to make room for others, we create space for our own growth as well—developing humility, compassion, and a deeper understanding of what truly matters.

Chapter 7: The Path of Return: Journeying Back to Your Authentic Self

The culmination of Michal Oshman's spiritual journey is embodied in the concept of teshuva—commonly translated as "repentance" but literally meaning "return." At forty-one, against the advice of many, Michal decided to have a fourth child. Years earlier, such a decision would have overwhelmed her with anxiety about all the things that could go wrong. But through her journey with Jewish wisdom, she had transformed—fear still existed but now lived beside her rather than within her. She had become stronger, more confident, and more joyful. This transformation extended to her relationship with her mother. Growing up, Michal had sometimes felt overlooked as her mother cared for sick parents and later mourned their loss. Now, as a mother herself who had "failed harder" many times, Michal created space for a new relationship with her own mother. Through compassionate, forgiving conversations, they built a deeper connection. When Michal went into labor with her fourth child, she asked her mother to be with her in the delivery room—a powerful symbol of their mutual growth and healing. This journey exemplifies the principle that the longest way is often the shortest, while what seems like the shortest path frequently leads nowhere. Our culture prizes quick fixes and immediate results, but meaningful growth requires taking the "longer, shorter way"—embracing the process with all its detours and challenges. The Jewish wisdom Michal discovered teaches that "every descent is for the sake of the ascent"—that falling is often necessary for rising higher, and the further we fall, the more we work to right ourselves, the higher we will ultimately rise. The practice of teshuva involves not only returning to one's authentic self but also repairing relationships through genuine forgiveness. Unlike superficial forgiveness that maintains power imbalances, true teshuva requires "full-hearted, loving forgiveness that mends and strengthens relationships." It acknowledges that we all fail at times, that we grow from our brokenness, and that the cracks in our perfection make us more beautiful and complete. This forgiveness replaces fear and anger with compassion and kindness. Teshuva isn't a one-time event but a daily practice of self-assessment and course correction. The Jewish morning prayer Modeh Ani, which thanks God for restoring one's soul each day, reminds us that every morning represents a renewed opportunity—a fresh chance to align with our authentic selves and fulfill our purpose. "If God believes in me," Michal reflects, "in the soul within me, then I should certainly believe in myself." The ultimate lesson of Michal's journey is that life isn't a problem to be solved but an experience to be lived. We are not broken things to be fixed but complex, beautiful human beings designed to grow and become who we were always meant to be. By discovering our unique purpose, embracing our imperfections, making space for others, and continually returning to our authentic selves, we can gradually replace fear with meaning. The journey continues, with tall bridges and narrow paths ahead, but each step brings us closer to inner peace, purpose, and joy.

Summary

The essence of Michal Oshman's transformative journey can be distilled to a profound truth: our fears do not define us, but rather our response to them shapes our lives. By discovering ancient Jewish wisdom principles like neshama (the soul's divine essence), tzimtzum (making space for others), and teshuva (returning to one's authentic self), she found a pathway from paralyzing anxiety to purposeful living. These concepts universally apply to anyone seeking to move beyond limitations imposed by fear, perfectionism, or past trauma. This journey offers several powerful insights we can incorporate into our own lives: First, recognize that meaning comes not from what we can get from life, but what we can give to it. Second, action precedes understanding—sometimes we must cross the bridge before we know what awaits on the other side. Third, our brokenness is not something to hide or fix, but rather the space where our greatest growth occurs. Finally, daily practice of teshuva—returning to our authentic selves—creates small but meaningful shifts that eventually transform our entire outlook. Whether facing career transitions, relationship challenges, or existential questions, these principles provide a framework for replacing fear with purpose and discovering what you would do if you weren't afraid.

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Michal Oshman

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