You don’t need a crystal ball to untangle the fear of failure—or even the fear of success. These fears often point to something deeper: an ancient inquiry that many of us carry quietly through life. Who am I?

I’ve turned this question over many times, often arriving through its doorway of negation. I’m not my job—I have one. I’m not my calling—I hear it. I’m not my purpose—I serve it. I still haven’t grasped the full answer. And maybe I never will. But this morning I tried again, tracing the edges of who I am by naming more of what I’m not.

I’m not my body. I have a body.
I’m not my thoughts. I have thoughts.
I’m not my feelings. I have feelings.
I’m not my mind. I have a mind.
I’m not my spirit. I have spirit.
I’m not my soul. I have a soul.
I’m not my life. I have life.

Who, then, is the “I” that has so much?

This presence—this unnamed, ungraspable “you”—is vast, powerful, and free. It doesn’t fit in labels or roles. It moves beyond identity. And perhaps that’s why success and failure feel so destabilizing. When we touch our own potential, the unknown within us stirs. It can feel dangerous. But it can also feel wise, generous, and full of choice.

You may never fully name who you are, but you can name your powers. You can learn to guide them.

Every moment is an opportunity to choose. To be useful, mindful, thoughtful. Or not. The choice is yours. And even if your power feels overwhelming at times, you’re not powerless within it. You are the steward. Use your power gently. Use it well. Not because you know exactly who you are, but because you trust what you hold.