Editor's Note:

Something occurred to me recently. Something bad.

We often fool ourselves, or make fools of ourselves, when we create fail-safe systems to guard against what we most fear. That's because fail-safe is based on the premise of redundancy -- if one level of protection fails, there's always level 2, and if level 2 fails, there's always level 3. We don't stop to think about the obvious: Whatever caused the failure of level 1 just might be the exact thing that could take down levels 2 and 3 as well.

But, hey, there's no need to be frustratingly abstract here. As the primary financial support of a family of four, I'd been able to sleep at night because, over the years, I'd been lucky enough to build a fail-safe: I had a stable job, but if the unexpected happened, I would still have some savings and, after years of paying down my mortgage and with the appreciation in the real estate market, considerable equity in my home. Likewise, if my savings took a hit, I'd still have the job and the equity. And if the real estate market crashed . . . well, you get the idea.

I persisted in that happy dream until September, when it became clear that the credit bubble was more like an everything bubble. My savings evaporated like a glass of whiskey on a radiator, just as my industry began dumping jobs by the truckload and my home equity took a nose dive.

I know how lucky I am. I still have a job; my house hasn't been foreclosed; my savings exceed my debts. But that illusion of fail-safe is gone, and I can imagine all too vividly how my luck could run out. When I'm imagining it at 3 in the morning, I can feel an icy hand reaching into my gut and squeezing. What would I do? My heart pounds in my ears; my breathing goes fast and shallow.

Then I realize what that feeling is. Fear. I start talking to myself. I say, "Don't be afraid," and I try to focus on that cold hand, make it relax its grip. Life is never safe, never easy, I tell myself. Fear doesn't help.

Sometimes that works. I relax, fall asleep. In the morning, the world doesn't look quite so bleak. Something good might even happen. Not being afraid seems powerful, as if it can change what's real.

So, even though I don't believe that the financial planner-cum-shaman featured in staff writer Laura Blumenfeld's jaw-dropping story (see Page 8) really has magic healing in his palms, I do not doubt the worth of his mission. As he walks Wall Street, shaking rattles, blowing conch shells and laying hands on the fiscally and emotionally freaked, all he's really saying is, Don't be afraid.

Tom Shroder can be reached at shrodert@washpost.com.