Fear Of Fortune Reading

I am terrified of performing on stage.

This may be surprising, considering I’ve been on national TV, hosted a gazillion company team-building events, and even asked a world-famous rock star to officiate my wedding.

There is no task Dr. Honeybrew can’t handle right?

Untrue!

Nothing stirs panic in my heart quite like the thought of performing Turkish coffee fortune readings under a sea of blinding lights, in front of a thousand anonymous faces.

And here’s the kicker: I’ve never even tried.

My father used to say, “Those fear what they can’t comprehend.”

At the time, those words flew in one ear and out the other. But now I get it.

We’re afraid of the unknown.

But defying the unknown is what leads to transformation, which in itself is a mandatory and unavoidable part of the human journey. Once we are exhausted from the suffocating routine of everyday life, change becomes the lingering answer. 

Defeating this fear though, requires confrontation. Which then requires courage. 

Ironically, courage seems short on supply during times of distress.

The good news? Fears are often irrational. They are conjured by the mind with good intentions to protect us from the super unknown.

Like the one I have of reading coffee fortune on stage.

Here is a story.

Last month while my uncle was visiting from Turkey, we treated him to one of my favorite joints in Manhattan — Trattoria Dell’Arte. A hoity-toity restaurant with statue-esque naked body parts strewn across. A who’s who of New York City’s finest eagerly plucking down over-priced, but hella delicious Tuscan affairs. 

I have personally spotted Wallace Shawn and Alec Baldwin during past visits.

And perhaps to fit in with this successful crowd, I noticed that I was boasting. Namely, of the New York Times article which had glowingly spoken praises of my “Turkish Coffee Room” fortune readings. 

It was time to change topics. 

So I asked uncle about the music festival he hosted in Istanbul circa 2010. It seemed appropriate given that I was contemplating taking my coffee ceremonies from living room, to Madison Square Garden.

He grew hesitant, quiet, and almost aloof. The more questions that I asked, the more evasive his answers became. I couldn’t understand. Then suddenly, he blew up with a response that was richly informative, but also hinting that a nerve had been struck.

And then silence. 

I was frustrated . “Why won’t uncle share his further wisdom to me?” 

Then I realized, oh, uncle had also forayed into the super unknown. But he was disappointed by his achievements - or lack thereof -  and opted to remain reticent in light of my own.

Failure, at least in his terms, had petrified him from seeing the light of his past failure.

I shouldn’t have pressed so hard.

I actually do have a stage anecdote.

In 2022, an ad related to a podcasting amphibian named “Lyle The Therapy Gecko” appeared on my social media feed. It was bizarre, and I purchased two tickets to see him live at The Gramercy Theater with my wife Amy.

Here is a blow-by-blow of events that occurred as I was invited to speak with Lyle.

Ahem,

The audience begins clapping feverishly. Each step closer, I submerge further into a dark vortex. By the time I arrive on stage, my sense of time is completely skewed. In a sad attempt to dispel this confusion, I let out a roar. The room reacts unenthusiastically.

I start talking. And while doing so, I realize how shockingly loud my apparel is. I fear it might be stealing Lyle’s spotlight. I also quickly notice how disenchanted everyone seems in believing that I actually filmed an episode of “Judge Steve Harvey”.

Fight or flight mode is activated. I see an audience member dozing on her phone. I ask Lyle if it’s worth continuing. He encourages me to refrain from focusing on the audience. I don’t listen. The room’s antagonism (perhaps fabricated) begins to collapse on my sense of self like an avalanche.

My wounds and traumas have are now on full display for this sold-out theater.

I ask, “do you guys want me to stay?” A mixed signaling of groans.

I say “OK” and walk off. 

The last thing I recall seeing is Lyle’s green jaw hitting the ground. 

The other week while I was in Turkey, the same uncle shared an idea of opening a restaurant in Marmaris. And while I was skeptical, who was I to dim his light? No one has the right to beat a man who desires to avenge himself and defeat his past fears. 

Especially if it’s one’s uncle.

So here is my pledge — before the end of 2025 I will perform a modest rendition of Turkish Coffee Room on stage. Otherwise, I will hang up the hat for good. There will be no more fortune readings if I refrain from fulfilling this promise. I can’t keep doing this out of my living room — even though I really love doing that too.

Don’t get me wrong.

And yes, I too may have failed in the past, but we all do. So let me try again. Let me think through what I will do different next time.

Guess what? It will be better. 

“Tell me lies tell me sweet little lies”.  Ok don’t do that. Be honest with yourself, always.

Dr. Honeybrew tour 2025 — here we go. This time maybe Lyle can open up.