FACING FEAR

A paradox: have you ever noticed how social media, despite all its obvious limits, somehow manages to stir certain reflections in us?

Under some of my posts last winter, buried among the usual mix of banalities and emojis, I received several comments saying things like: “This is real life!” A statement that, deep down, left me a bit puzzled.

The images on my profile are the result of the talent of both the photographer and the skier - two skills that, combined, create the shot. The style captured in that moment is the outcome of a complex sum of factors that are hard to align: framing, light, exposure (for both of us), quality, technique, snow. As skiers, in those situations, we even try to consciously make the movement look effortless. The understanding and coordination between who shoots and who skis are essential. If even one of these elements fails, the picture is useless.

Can this precarious puzzle of fleeting instants really represent real life? No, at least not in my opinion. Because, in truth, nothing is further from my daily life than the staged, online performance of a perfect ski turn - even though I do try to stay as authentic as possible on social media.

The more I think about it, the less sense it makes. My life is not a collection of perfectly timed, well‑executed moments captured by a talented photographer. Not at all. Every day, like everyone, I face doubts and fears: the fear of losing my job, not having enough money, growing old, no longer being loved, being alone, or something happening to my daughter… the list could go on endlessly. It fascinates me how humans - the most evolved species - have managed to invent all these neuroses, these fears, and then spend their lives trying to coexist with them. Animals, on the other hand, don’t have these problems. To calm myself down, I just watch the cats wandering around the farmhouse.

Modern humans, on the other hand, have invented countless activities - more or less dangerous - skiing included, precisely to forget, or at least coexist with, these neuroses. Even I, who in everyday life am clumsy, insecure, and not exactly suited to the demands of the modern world (out of laziness and, at times, by choice), can quiet my mind during a ski tour and a few beautiful descents. Skiing brings you into contemplation - you live in the moment, the only real thing we possess and the only one we should fully experience. That’s where we finally feel good and happy, because skiing has this extraordinary power of exorcising fear by making us live it.

And the ritual for this little exorcism is always the same: step‑in, a knowing glance at my bindings and a careful one downward, toward the void of the steep slope. I tap my skis on the snow a couple of times, and I’m ready to face the deadly beauty of that descent, ready to throw myself into the “other” world. The world you come back from amazed, full of adrenaline, joy, and a renewed thirst for life. Finally.

Even though I believe that the only real fear worth facing is the fear of death - because it’s the only true one - skiing on slopes where a fall could be fatal is not about risking your life. It’s about placing yourself in a condition that demands every single faculty you have, all your concentration, in order to break out of the ordinary and dance with your own level of extraordinary.

It’s crazy, if you think about it, that we need all of this just to feel at peace with our fears - especially since the moment will inevitably come when we must ski back down to the valley and return to reality. Brutal, unforgiving reality.

I wish you to find your own path, to live by forgetting the false fears and facing what’s real, always remembering where true life lies - and where the mere portrayal of a single moment begins.

✒️ Bruno Compagnet
📸 Layla Kerley