How Our Mental Landscape of Judgment Makes the World Feel Unsafe
There’s a saying: when you’re running from a bear, you don’t have to be faster than the bear, only faster than the slowest person in your group.
This, I think, describes how most of humanity lives.
Let me explain.
As infants, we form our first impressions of love long before we have language or logic. At that age, these impressions are etched into our nervous system. They become part of the architecture of our subconscious minds. One such impression is this: receiving love is necessary for survival.
And in infancy, that belief is true. We are utterly helpless. We depend on others for everything—warmth, nourishment, safety, existence itself. Love, care, and attention are not luxuries; they are life support.
But as we grow, something tragic happens. We never update the program. We are unconscious of it, and it continues to run.
The belief that love equals survival continues to govern us long after it’s no longer true. This unexamined belief then becomes the invisible script behind nearly everything we do. Unconsciously, we chase attention, validation, and admiration in the name of safety.
The result is that most of humanity lives in quiet, unconscious competition for love. Love becomes the ultimate commodity, the invisible currency we trade for security. And because our subconscious associates love with survival, the competition feels existential. Losing attention, status, or approval doesn’t just sting, it feels life-threatening. Deep down, we’re still running from the bear, trying to outrun the next guy.
This is why criticism, rejection, or public embarrassment can trigger a physiological panic, a fight-or-flight response. When the image of who we are, the persona we’ve built to be loved, is challenged, our body reacts as though our life is on the line. It feels like danger because, in the nervous system’s old language, it is danger.
Living this way has consequences.
When life becomes a contest for love, we divide into winners and losers. “Us” and “them.” The mind begins to compare, rank, and sort. Superiority begins to feel like safety. Judgment becomes armor. We cultivate identities that give us the illusion of being faster than someone else, smarter, richer, prettier, more spiritual. Anything to stay ahead of the other as we run from the bear.
This is the root of comparison, prejudice, racism, class, and caste systems. It is the root cause of conflict and violence in humanity. It is the original scarcity: the belief that there isn’t enough love to go around.
From that illusion of lack, every other scarcity mindset was born.
The other side of the coin of our outward denunciation of others, is that our minds eventually turn the judgments inward. If our survival depends on being “enough,” then every flaw, every mistake, every misstep, becomes a threat. We punish ourselves relentlessly for not meeting imaginary standards. Our self-criticism isn’t vanity, it’s a high-stakes survival strategy.
Imagine living inside that mental environment: a constant hum of comparison, judgment, superiority, and self-attack. Is it any wonder we struggle to feel safe, relaxed, calm? We are our own worst enemy and we can’t run from ourselves.
When we live as competitors in a race for love, we are always looking over our shoulder, projecting our own hostility onto others, suspecting their motives, bracing for betrayal. We think we’re protecting ourselves, but really, we’re living in a self-created climate of fear.
The truth is that this inner mindset of competition and defense shapes our experience of the outer world far more than circumstance ever could. Our thoughts are the primary ecosystem in which we live. And when those thoughts are built on an outdated, erroneous belief, that receiving love equals survival, we will never know peace, no matter how favorable our surroundings, no matter how much love we receive, success or status we gain.
But we can change the story.
We can recognize that the belief itself is obsolete. We are no longer helpless infants. We do not need anyone’s approval, attention, or affection to survive. We are safe. We are whole. Others’ success, achievements, or status are not threats to us, they are proof that love is abundant.
The moment we remember this; something begins to shift.
The judgments quiet. The competition fades. We begin to see others not as rivals, but points of connection. We start to trust that there is enough love to go around, because there always has been.
From this space, we can begin the real work: weeding the garden of the mind. Releasing the critical thoughts, of others and of ourselves, that kept us in fear. Cultivating peace where anxiety once lived.
The practice that has worked for me is a blend of mindfulness and the conscious dropping of thoughts that do not serve my happiness or well-being. This is not a one-time fix; it’s a commitment. As you maintain awareness of your thoughts, you’ll notice judgments, criticism, and comparisons arise. The ego mistakes superiority for happiness. It’s reassuring, even intoxicating, to feel “more” than another, it makes us feel safe, competent, enough. But this is not happiness. In truth, every critical thought, of others or of ourselves, clouds the very peace we seek.
When we live in constant critique, whether aimed outward or inward, we cannot be present. We’re trapped in fear. The invitation, then, is simple but profound: to drop the thought. And to do it again, and again.
This practice is not a silver bullet. At first, you may need to drop certain thoughts every five minutes, then every fifteen, then every hour. But eventually, there comes a moment when you notice the thought never returned. You’ve finally pulled the weed up by its root.
We are weeding our garden. The weeds will return from time to time, but the more attentive we become, the more resilient we grow. Over time, the barren wasteland of negative thoughts within which we once emersed ourselves transforms into a beautiful garden. A garden where peace, gratitude, and wonder thrive.
This is how the body learns to relax again. How the heart begins to unclench. How we stop trying to outrun the bear, and remember, with relief and wonder, that there was never a bear at all.