‘Neboj,’: a Czech word meaning ‘don’t be afraid,’ ‘don’t worry’

‘Neboj,’ a Czech word meaning ‘don’t be afraid,’ ‘don’t worry.’ It is the imperative singular form used to comfort or reassure someone.

i still remember vividly when i first learnt of this word from the entrance to the Karlin side of the pedestrian tunnel in Prague. It instantly had a big effect on me, it resonated deeply with me.

My son you see, lived in Prague for many, many years, joined later by his delightful wife, and later on their son. Having myself visited the city on many occasions over the years which afforded me the opportunity to become very familiar with all its wonders.

Have you ever yourself by chance visited this wonderful and beautiful city? Perhaps you very well have, it’s a hugely popular tourist destination. I daresay also you’ve likely encountered this very same pedestrian tunnel i speak of, the Žižkov Pass, a subterranean artery linking the districts of Žižkov and Karlin which are separated by the Vítkov Hill.

Large reassuring letters on the Karlin side read: neboj, which are inscribed above its entrance. The tunnel as you passage through it makes a bend at the midpoint, whereby, you cannot see from where you have come nor where you are going as the entrance and exit are somewhat concealed which understandably, could stir some unease in even the most stalwart soul. Yet, it stands as a testament to resilience, a call to courage when visibility wanes and uncertainty looms.

This symbolism has never failed to move me — just as Prague itself embodies strength tempered by beauty, history shaped by defiance. For what is life if not a journey through tunnels in which we cannot fully see our way. What greater wisdom could one seek than the emboldening encouragement of “don’t be afraid.”

Allow me to share with you that i have myself been intimately acquainted with fear’s paralyzing grip—it was my constant companion for many, many years, rendering me its captive in what American psychologist Martin Seligman termed ‘learned helplessness.’ A simple knock at the door would send me scurrying into the wardrobe, my mind shrieking “Go away! Go away!” as if I were invisible. My spirit, shrunk to a fraction of its potential, internalized powerlessness defining my every moment.

Fear, i have come to learn is not an abstract emotion—it is a biological time bomb that accelerates degeneration by disrupting every major system in the body. Chronic fear vibrates at a frequency that resonates with pathogenic microbes, making the body more susceptible to infection.

And i must admit that extricating myself from fear’s unyielding grip was no trivial undertaking—an act, requiring tenacity and unwavering resolve i can tell you. The passage of time during this odyssey was to put it mildly, painful, even excruciating, yet hindsight reveals not remorse but purpose. It was a trial by fire, a spiritual awakening where the former fragilities of my psyche were replaced with an indomitable strength. Now, by contrast, those who have recently entered my sphere perceive no trace of my prior susceptibilities. I am reborn—empowered and transformed.

Permit me a young childhood reminiscence if you may—less to wallow in memory than to illuminate as an example of how fear’s tendrils first took root within me. I assure you that i harbour no attachment to this episode; it is past, healed, forgiven. My mother, Barbara—a victim her too of unspoken wounds—who sadly in all her eighty-three years upon this earthly plane never found respite from her own demons. i love her dearly, i truly do.

On nights, as my father worked through the dark hours, she would awaken and take me from my bed placing me sat at the top of the stairs, it being a two storey house. A crucifix with a red lamp attached hung on the wall behind me. The front door being at the bottom of the stairs stood ajar; beyond it, she warned, stood figures of authority—the local priest or sometimes the police—waiting to punish and take me away for sins I did not know I had committed. “Are you going to be a good boy?” she repeatedly asked, her voice a spectral echo in the night. My tiny frame convulsed with terror as I wept uncontrollably.

This was no isolated incident i can assure you; it was a pattern of cruelty that shaped my psyche into a vessel of fear.

I would like to share with you a poem i wrote which for me captures the period.

Daddy and Mammy

didn’t start off so good, finished even worse

it wasn’t beautiful, wondrous nor great
childhood suffering so rampant
dark malignant virus of the mind 
working through our very being
the loosh energy they feed upon
not what a child should ever have to endure

but despite…

the lack of love and affection
the violence, the beatings, the belt across the legs
threats of invading space ships
the our father who art in heavens
abandonment to the coldness of an orphanage
being so messed up for many a year to come

i love you both dearly, i truly do

and with a joyful heart, i forgive you
it wasn’t your fault, was it?
victims you too, a tragedy
now no more in this physical plane
want so much to hug you 
to express my profound love for you

we came through it, didn’t we?
the cycle has now been broken!

i should say here that i was, after much searching, reunited with my mother after almost fifty-four years, at her funeral in the North of Wales which was truly beautiful and magical despite the sadness of the occasion. And, as a bonus, i was united with two brothers whom i never even knew existed… imagine that?

Now, i do fully appreciate too that it is very easy to say ‘don’t be afraid’ ‘don’t worry’ than to do so, particularly when one is confronted with one’s fear, but believe me, in good time, if you work at it, you will be able to heal, to shed the shackles and paralysis that plague you.

And even though my exposure to childhood abuse left me traumatised for the greater part of my life, let alone the consequences of such a trauma, i am perfectly cognizant too that my experience is very, very mild and tame by comparison to the ferocious cruelties many children have to endure.

However, it is critical to recognize that trauma—no matter its scale—has real, lasting consequences. The damage inflicted on one’s psyche during formative years can manifest in ways that persist into adulthood unless addressed.

i would like to conclude with an excerpt from a talk given by Dr. David R. Hawkins.

“PTSD due to such savagery you can’t recover, there’s no psychological technique, there’s no medicine, there’s no physical healing, you cannot. So how can you recover from it? Only by the miraculous.

The Power of Love!

So each of month the girl comes in and you watch the transformation from ferociously angry ferociously depressed assaultive suicidal they cut on themselves all the time they try to overdose kill themselves and you watch gradually the the flower blooming so you see that which is possible only by love only love could bring it out of that savagery into become a beautiful young person.”