What Would You Do If You Weren't Afraid?

In the sterile corridors of Facebook's London office, a simple question painted on the wall would change one woman's life forever: "What would you do if you weren't afraid?" For Michal Oshman, a successful Israeli executive who had built her career commanding respect in boardrooms across Europe, this question struck at the heart of a lifetime spent in the shadow of anxiety. Raised as the daughter of Israel's top forensic pathologist, surrounded by the haunting memories of Holocaust survivors, she had learned early that the world was a dangerous place where catastrophe lurked around every corner.

Despite outward success in military leadership, corporate consulting, and family life, Oshman carried within her a constant companion of dread that colored every decision and stole joy from life's most precious moments. Her journey from this place of perpetual fear to one of purposeful living would lead her through an unexpected discovery of ancient Jewish wisdom, transforming not only her own existence but offering a roadmap for anyone seeking to break free from the chains of anxiety and self-doubt. Through her exploration of concepts like the soul's eternal flame, the practice of making space for others, and the beauty found in brokenness, readers will discover how timeless spiritual principles can provide surprisingly practical solutions for modern struggles with meaning, relationships, and personal growth.

The morgue was no place for a seven-year-old, but circumstances had left Michal's father with no choice but to bring his daughter to work that Sunday morning. What she witnessed in the basement would haunt her for decades: the bloated, maggot-covered body of a drowning victim, a stark reminder of mortality that would fuel a lifetime of anxiety. Yet even as a child, standing before this grotesque tableau, something within her wondered about the essence that had once animated this flesh. Where had the person's feelings gone, their love for family, their entire lived experience?

Growing up in the shadow of Israel's most prominent forensic pathologist meant that death was never an abstract concept but a daily reality. Photographs from crime scenes spilled from her father's briefcase, and the horrors humans could inflict upon one another were as familiar as homework assignments. Compounding this exposure to mortality were the nightly screams of her Holocaust survivor grandmother, whose nightmares about Nazi soldiers served as twisted lullabies that taught young Michal that safety was always temporary and evil always lurking.

The trauma extended beyond individual experience to encompass generational wounds that had never fully healed. Her grandparents' survival instinct had been passed down like DNA, creating a family culture where vigilance was paramount and joy felt almost irresponsible given the world's capacity for cruelty. This inheritance of fear shaped every interaction with the world, from scanning fellow bus passengers for potential terrorists to imagining the worst-case scenario in every innocent situation.

By adulthood, Michal had become masterful at maintaining a successful exterior while battling an internal storm of catastrophic thinking. She excelled professionally, served as a military commander, and built a loving family, all while carrying the weight of ancestral trauma and personal terror. The disconnection between her capable public persona and her frightened inner world created a exhausting duality that therapy seemed unable to bridge, leaving her searching for answers in places she had never thought to look.

The revelation came during Passover, a holiday Michal had observed culturally but never truly understood. When a friend explained that the Egyptian bondage wasn't just historical but symbolic of any internal slavery that prevents freedom, something clicked. The Hebrew word "mitzrayim" didn't just mean Egypt but "narrow straits" or boundaries, representing the mental and emotional chains that bind us regardless of our external circumstances. For the first time, Michal saw her anxiety not as a personal failing but as a universal human condition requiring spiritual rather than merely psychological solutions.

This insight led her to an unexpected encounter with Hasidic wisdom through the recommendation of a psychology professor. Sitting in a class taught by Rabbi Mendel Gordon, she encountered the Tanya, an eighteenth-century text that described the soul as "comparable to the flame of a candle which, by nature, continually flickers upwards." The metaphor struck her with profound recognition. The restless anxiety she had always fought wasn't evidence of damage but proof of her soul's natural inclination to grow and transcend, like a flame reaching toward its source.

The concept of the neshama, or soul, provided a revolutionary framework for understanding herself. Rather than being merely the sum of her traumatic experiences and conditioning, she possessed an eternal essence that existed before and beyond her circumstances. This divine spark within wasn't subject to the fears and limitations that plagued her personality; it was connected to something infinite and purposeful. The Jewish principle of looking forward rather than endlessly revisiting past wounds offered a practical alternative to the therapeutic approaches that had kept her circling the same painful memories.

Through study of ancient texts and their practical applications, Michal discovered that Jewish wisdom offered sophisticated tools for managing the very challenges that had defined her existence. The practice of bittul taught her to empty herself of ego-driven concerns to make space for meaningful purpose. The concept of tikkun showed her how personal healing could contribute to repairing the world. These weren't abstract philosophical concepts but practical methodologies that could transform daily life when properly understood and applied.

The transformation from anxious achiever to purposeful leader began with a fundamental shift in how Michal understood success itself. Years of adapting her appearance, suppressing her emotions, and hiding her Jewish identity to fit into British corporate culture had taught her that acceptance required self-denial. From straightening her naturally curly hair to keeping her hands motionless while speaking, she had learned to wear masks that promised professional advancement at the cost of personal authenticity.

This pattern of accommodation reached its breaking point when she encountered workplace cultures that not only tolerated her true self but actively valued it. At Facebook, her manager's simple question about what mattered to her personally created space for vulnerability that transformed her entire approach to leadership. When she mentioned being Jewish, his genuine curiosity and weekly "Shabbat Shalom" messages demonstrated how inclusion could be practiced rather than merely preached.

The Jewish concept of tzedakah, meaning justice rather than charity, provided a framework for leadership that transcended personal advancement. Instead of asking what she could get from her position, Michal began focusing on what justice and repair her role could create for others. This shift from ego-driven achievement to purpose-driven service fundamentally changed how she approached team dynamics, conflict resolution, and organizational culture building.

The principle of "failing harder" became central to her leadership philosophy, creating psychological safety that allowed both herself and her teams to take risks necessary for innovation and growth. By normalizing failure as an essential component of development rather than evidence of inadequacy, she could model the vulnerability that enables authentic connection and learning. This approach, rooted in Jewish wisdom about the necessity of struggle for spiritual growth, transformed traditional notions of professional competence and success.

The early years of Michal's marriage revealed how anxiety and control could poison even the most loving relationships. Having absorbed her parents' marriage as the template for success, she tried to impose this model on her partnership with Yair, leaving no room for their unique dynamic to emerge. The Hebrew concept of tzimtzum, describing how God contracted to make space for creation, offered a revolutionary approach to intimate relationships that prioritized making space for the other rather than asserting dominance.

Parenthood intensified both her fears and her opportunity for growth. The birth of her first child triggered overwhelming anxiety about responsibility and control, compounded by early struggles with breastfeeding that felt like immediate evidence of maternal failure. Her father's simple wisdom about becoming a "good enough mother" rather than perfect one provided permission to release impossible standards while still maintaining deep care and commitment.

The ancient principle of chinuch, meaning education or dedication to purpose, transformed her understanding of parenting from molding blank slates to nurturing existing souls toward their unique destinies. King Solomon's advice to "teach a child according to his way" required her to observe and respond to each child's individual nature rather than imposing uniform expectations. This approach demanded the practice of tzimtzum, contracting her own presence to create space for her children's authentic development.

Establishing family traditions rooted in meaning rather than mere routine became central to creating what Jewish wisdom calls a "mikdash me'at," or small sanctuary. Weekly Shabbat dinners with mandatory compliments for each family member gradually shifted the household culture from criticism and competition toward gratitude and mutual support. These practices, grounded in Jewish values but applicable to any family seeking deeper connection, demonstrated how ancient wisdom could create contemporary transformation.

The evolution from personal healing to public teaching emerged from Michal's recognition that the Jewish wisdom that had transformed her life possessed universal applications extending far beyond religious boundaries. Her work as a corporate culture consultant provided opportunities to apply principles like tikkun (repair) and tzedakah (justice) in secular environments, helping organizations create more inclusive and psychologically safe workplaces.

The concept of being a "mensch," meaning a decent person of integrity who considers others' needs, became central to her leadership development work with executives. Rather than focusing solely on technical competencies or strategic thinking, she emphasized the character qualities that enable authentic influence and sustainable success. This approach challenged conventional leadership models that often prioritized dominance over service and results over relationships.

Her discovery that everyone carries both yetzer hara (destructive inclinations) and yetzer tov (constructive inclinations) provided a framework for addressing workplace conflicts and personal struggles without shame or blame. By normalizing internal struggle as the human condition rather than personal failure, she could help individuals and teams develop resilience and mutual compassion rather than perfectionism and competition.

The practice of teshuva, meaning return or repentance, offered a model for continuous growth and relationship repair that transcended traditional notions of success and failure. Rather than viewing mistakes as permanent marks against character, this approach emphasized the ongoing opportunity to return to one's essential goodness and purpose. This perspective, applied in both personal and professional contexts, created possibilities for healing and transformation that conventional approaches often missed.

Michal Oshman's journey from paralyzing anxiety to purposeful living demonstrates that our deepest wounds often point toward our greatest gifts and that ancient wisdom can provide surprisingly practical solutions for contemporary struggles. Her discovery that the soul's natural restlessness isn't pathology but spiritual hunger offers hope to anyone who has felt broken by life's challenges or trapped by their own limitations.

The transformation she experienced through embracing Jewish principles like tzimtzum, tikkun, and teshuva suggests that healing comes not from eliminating our struggles but from finding meaning within them and using our experiences to serve something greater than ourselves. Her story reminds us that we are not merely products of our circumstances but souls on a journey toward becoming who we were always meant to be, equipped with everything necessary to cross whatever bridges await us on the path to authentic freedom and joy.