Fear is sorta like garlic. A little is good, but going overboard can put a real damper on a date, er, I mean life.

One of the best ways Ive found to get to know someone is to ask what he/she is afraid of. If their answers include mimes, snakes, or ventriloquist dummies, then, WHAMMO! Conversation topic! If they answer stuff like failure, never finding love or rejection then you should run, not walk, and get as far away from this emotional vampire as possible. After all, youre just getting to know someone, not settling down on Dr. Freuds couch!

As all conversation and questions should be two-way, I have to admit one of my biggest fears: birds. Actually, thats sorta glossing over the phobia. Nothing in the whole wide world terrifies me as much as the thought of being attacked by birds. Jerky-quick movements, sharp little beaks and scratchy claws are, in my humble opinion, all trademarks of the devil himself!

My fear of birds commenced when I was a wee lad of nine. Picture little Marcus, a recent transplant from suburbia to a rural Missouri farm. In my familys attempt to prove our good intentions of being agriculturists, my parents got the bright idea of raising chickens. In retrospect, bad idea.

One of my daily chores was to go into the big, scary chickenhouse and collect the eggs-a task made more difficult by the fact the nests were slightly higher than eye-level with your average nine-year old little boy named Marcus. This meant I had to reach up into the nest and feel around for the presence of eggs.

One morning, I blindly stuck my hand into a nest and groped around for the next mornings breakfast. Instead of cute little eggs, I found a couple of feathers which were attached to a wing which was attached to, what else?! A chicken! Disturbed by my intrusion, Chicken Not-So-Little stuck her head out and I came nose to beak with those beady little eyes and scratchy beak. I did what came natural-screamed bloody murder! Like a winged Tasmanian Devil, the bird blasted out of the nest and straight at my face. Her trajectory and my hysterics sent the other chickens into psycho mode and I had to fight my way to the chicken coop door, all the while hacking away at wings and beaks like a jungle explorer with a machete. After I finished hyperventilating and changed my Wranglers, I swore Id never again set foot inside the chickenhouse-a vow that, to this day, I have kept.

If youve watched TV in the last, oh, five years, youve probably seen the show, Fear Factor. Ordinary, average sado-massacists admit their biggest phobia to the producers and the world. Then, as if they didnt know it would happen, the contestants are made to face their biggest fear. Inevitably, someone ends up with snakes slithering over their body or spiders crawling across their face. And, the big question is: Why? And the big answer is: Money, of course!

With nothing short of sheer bribery, these whack jobs stare down their biggest fear in hopes of putting some moolah in their pocket. I say good for them! This is American capitalism at its best! Lets pay people to get freaked out for other peoples amusement!

Still, I think a bigger motivation for overcoming fear shouldnt be money, but a true desire to put a limiting belief behind us. Shakespeare coined the term, Sink or swim which is, of course, learning by immersion in the truest sense of the words! Would I overcome my bird phobia if I had to walk through the bird house at Busch Gardens? Probably not, but at least I would be staring that fear in the face, admitting it and then working to overcome it. It may not change the fear, but at least its an effort to put that limiting behavior to rest.

Own the fear. Admitting that you are frightened by something is the first step. Secondly, you must be willing to stand up to the fear and make yourself vulnerable to it. Once this happens, and you live through the experience, you have just empowered yourself to move past self-limiting beliefs. It doesnt mean youre cured for life, but it does allow you to take control of the phobia instead of the phobia controlling you. And, yes, of course, I have to practice what I preach, so the next time Im at Busch Gardens, as tough as itll be, Im going to walk through the bird housebut Ill walk quickly!