Trust Me: A Lesson in Fear and Flight

The first time I heard those words from motivational speaker, Mike Dooley, I’ll admit I thought them a little woo-woo. Surely life wasn’t that simple? Surely it was circumstance, luck, other people and even fate itself that shaped our days?

Then along came Dr Joe Dispenza, whose teachings took the idea further and got me thinking a little deeper. Grounded in neuroscience, quantum physics and lived experience, he explained that our thoughts and emotions don’t just reflect reality; they create it.

“Your personality creates your personal reality,” I would hear Dr Joe tell from his numerous books I have come to read and videos I have watched. “And your personality is made up of how you think, act and feel.” That idea both thrilled and intrigued me.

Could my thoughts really be that powerful?

Gregg Braden takes this even further. He explains that it’s not only the thoughts themselves, but the significance we give them that shapes our reality. A passing thought can be harmless, like a cloud drifting by. But when we attach weight to it, giving it oxygen and energy, we feed it and let it settle into us.

And it can become a storm.

My storm and my answer were waiting for me on 96 steps of Mount Buninyong’s lookout tower recently.

It was only 25 metres high, but to me it was Everest-like. The first flight of stairs I bounded up easily—“Look. Mum, no hands!” The second began to test me, the third had me grasping the well-worn hand railing. By the fourth, my inner coach was cheering: “Steady girl, you’ve got this.”

By the fifth, my breath shortened, my legs began to quiver and my body to scream warnings—perhaps I did not have this after all? “When did you become so afraid?” I asked of myself, searching for an answer as my clenched knuckles began to turn white.

Each thought, “You’re not safe. You cannot do this. You’ll fall,” landed like bricks. My body threatening to collapse like a child’s push-up toy. What had begun as a passing cloud of doubt was now a roaring thunder in my chest. It had become my personal reality.

On the sixth, the swaying treetops below made my stomach churn. Fear wasn’t just in my head any more; it had moved to every inch of my jelly-like body. And then came the moment we all face in life: stay stuck where fear has pinned you or move forward, one trembling step at a time.

I swallowed, my mouth dry. I froze. And then I looked up.

Above me, circling effortlessly on an invisible air current, was a majestic eagle. Their vast wings stretched wide and their body seemingly suspended in time. Steady and utterly at home in the sky. I marvelled at the impossibility of it all. The eagle wasn’t fighting the wind, they were trusting it and flowing gloriously with it.

And in that instant, Braden’s words made so much sense. The steps had not changed, they were still metal and strong. Only the significance I gave my thoughts for mounting them had. I had been feeding my fear.

So, could I choose to feed trust?

If the eagle could trust the current to carry them, could I not trust my own legs, my breath, my mind to carry me just a little higher? Just as they had done as I so easily navigated those first few steps.

“Breathe girl, breathe.”

And so I did.

Though not quite “Look. Mum, no hands,” step by tenacious step, thought by empowering thought, whilst not as graceful as the eagle, my foot lifted. And I. Climbed. It lifted again and I climbed some more. The seventh landing brought me close enough to taste victory, but fear still whispered.

And the eagle still watched.

So higher still I went. Until at last, the summit. That final step. The holy grail.

The view was as magnificent as the brochure promised. In fact, it was more so. 360 panoramic views sweeping across Ballarat and beyond. But the greater view was inward. The realisation that my thoughts had created my struggle—and so too my triumph.

The steps never changed. Only my mind did. Dispenza was right: change your energy and change your life. And Braden was on the money too. It was the meaning I gave those thoughts that shaped whether they held me back or lifted me higher.

How powerful are our minds? I mused—perhaps the eighth wonder of the world.

And then, just as the euphoria bloomed, the wind snatched my beloved cap. Of course it did! In the catch of the century, I lunged and grabbed it. Stuffing it safely under my jumper. All done with one hand whilst the other still clung to the railing for dear life. But I was laughing, because in that moment fear no longer owned me.

Walking heroically back down, I knew I carried more than a view from Mount Buninyong. I carried proof. Proof that our thoughts truly do become things. Proof that trust, when paired with courage, can carry us higher than we think possible. And proof that the limits we believe in are often only illusions.

Dispenza’s and Braden’s teachings came alive for me that day. We are not victims of circumstance, but creators of our reality. When we live from fear, our world shrinks. When we live from trust, our possibility expands.

And nature? Nature already knows this truth. Science once declared the bumblebee’s flight impossible, its body too heavy and its wings too small. And yet, blissfully unaware of these laws, the gentle bumblebee simply flies.

Like the bumblebee and like that eagle above me, I too learned that day, it’s not the rules we’re told that matter most, but the trust we place in what is possible that is.

Sometimes, to rise, we don’t need more strength. We just need more trust.

So, did I really make it to the top? Or is this just a story from my head?

Well, I’d love to show you the photo, but when I finally summoned the courage to pull out my phone, the battery had gone flat!

So I guess you’ll just have to trust me on that one.