Of the many unpleasant emotions we can experience, fear may top the list. {#blank#}1{#/blank#}. Fear can also keep us from pursuing the things in life that really matter — like following our dreams, and developing important relationships. I have some ideas, though, of how to be free from fear.

Experience fear.

I used to be very afraid of speaking in front of people. I would get sweaty palms and my stomach would be so tied up that I wouldn't be able to eat. However, each time I spoke, I noticed afterwards that it wasn't that bad. Things I fear are never as bad in reality as I make them out in my mind. {#blank#}2{#/blank#}.

Create space.

    The first and most important step to being fearless is to create some space between ourselves and the emotion of fear. This isn't accomplished by ignoring the fear, or trying to talk ourselves out of it. {#blank#}3{#/blank#}. In fact, a recent research shows that by simply admitting the emotion we actually begin to reverse the "fight or flight(逃避)" response in the body.

Control the breath and feel the fear.

    Once we acknowledge the presence of fear, the second step is to control the breathing so that it becomes slower and gentler. We try to make the breath just a little bit longer, and feel how fear manifests(展现) in the body. {#blank#}4{#/blank#}.

    With practice, we can create enough space between us and the emotion of fear so that we're able to replace a fearful thought with a positive one. {#blank#}5{#/blank#}. For instance, before I get up to speak in front of a group of people, I imagine that the audience is positively impressed by what I say and that I manage to complete the speech successfully.

    You know the feeling-you have left your phone at home and feel anxious, as if you have lost your connection to the world. "Nomophobia" (无手机恐惧症) affects teenagers and adults alike. You can even do an online test to see if you have it. Last week, researchers from Hong Kong warned that nomophobia is infecting everyone. Their study found that people who use their phones to store, share and access personal memories suffer most. When users were asked to describe how they felt about their phones, words such as "hurt" (neck pain was often reported) and "alone" predicted higher levels of nomophobia.

    "The findings of our study suggest that users regard smartphones as their extended selves and get attached to the devices," said Dr. Kim Ki Joon. "People experience feelings of anxiety and unpleasantness when separated from their phones." Meanwhile, an American study shows that smartphone separation can lead to an increase in heart rate and blood pressure.

    So can being without your phone really give you separation anxiety? Professor Mark Griffiths, psychologist and director of the International Gaming Research Unit at Nottingham Trent University, says it is what is on the phone that counts-the social networking that creates Fomo (fear of missing out).

    "We are talking about an internet-connected device that allows people to deal with lots of aspects of their lives," says Griffiths. "You would have to surgically remove a phone from a teenager because their whole life is rooted in this device."

    Griffiths thinks attachment theory, where we develop emotional dependency on the phone because it holds details of our lives, is a small part of nomophobia. For "screenagers", it is Fomo that creates the most separation anxiety. If they can't see what's happening on Snapchat or Instagram, they become panic-stricken about not knowing what's going on socially. "But they adapt very quickly if you take them on holiday and there's no internet," says Griffiths.

    China is fondly remembering one of its most famous radio voices, a man whose vivid storytelling was a comfort to millions of people, from commuters stuck in traffic to restless teens struggling to sleep. Shan Tianfang, was a leading performer of the traditional Chinese art form pingshu, which translates as "storytelling".

    Pingshu dates from the Song Dynasty (AD960-1279) when performers would entertain villagers by telling stories in a particularly emotive style. It remains particularly popular in north-eastern China. Performers wear traditional dress and use very basic props - often a folded fan and a gavel. Pingshu is sometimes performed in tea houses and small theatres, but many Chinese associate the art form with radio. And in a country where sleeping problems are commonplace, pingshu is still popular as a way of helping people to wind down at bedtime.

    Shan Tianfang was born in 1934 in Yingkou, in north-eastern Liaoning province. His family introduced him to folk arts from a young age and he began learning pingshu when he was 19. He became known in Liaoning for his work on stage and in local teahouses during the 1950s and 1960s, and performed in an art troupe around the region. From 1966-1976, Shan, along with other pingshu performers like Yuan Kuocheng, was forced to stop work. During the 1980s.Shan made the transition (转型) to state-run radio, and his captivating storytelling became comfort listening for people across the country. By the 1990s, Shan had become a well-known face on state TV, even performing in the annual Spring Festival Gala show. He has died aged 84 following a long illness.

    Shan performed over 12,000 stories on TV and radio. His stories attracted people of all ages. One of his most acclaimed performances is of the Heroes in the Sui and Tang Dynasties. He gave countless performances of the “Four Classic Novels” (Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Journey to the West, Dream of the Red Chamber and Water Margin) and also helped to bring lesser-known classical Chinese literature to new audiences.

    He was able to use the medium to entrance his audience and in the process he helped to popularise classical Chinese literature. As film director Zhang Jizhong told the Global Times newspaper: “He could describe a scene and a character extremely vividly. He once had a long talk with me about adapting the heroic stories he told into films or television shows to help promote Chinese classics and traditional culture.”

    But in his later years, the growth of online and digital media exposed the challenges of keeping his art form alive. Shan turned his efforts towards writing books and opening performance schools to teach pingshu to young people. They included the Shan Tianfang Culture and Media Academy in Beijing, a Shan Tianfang teahouse and “storytelling base” in Anshan in Liaoning province. Meanwhile, modern productions of pingshu reference (引用，参照) contemporary  (现代的) culture to draw in new performers and audiences. Performers like Guo Heming have emerged, putting a modern spin on pingshu by adapting popular works, including the Harry Potter stories.

    Although he wasn't particularly active on social media, he amassed more than one million fans on the Sina Weibo platform.

A memorial was held for him on 15 September but millions of Chinese will miss his voice.

    I was deeply moved by the kindness of an elderly flower seller at Sydney's Central Station one evening.

    I was feeling as cold as the winter winds quickening the steps of the people who buried chins (下巴) in scarves and hands deep into coat pockets. In many ways, 2018 had proven an arduous year. My teenage daughter had left home for university, my job of 23 years was no more, and a creative project I'd given my all to for years had also been suddenly called off. I also found out a person I considered a friend was far from it.

    A year earlier, I'd dreamt about an earthquake. In the dream, a red light flashed inside a building and then the earth began to rock. Walls fell down on me as I ran into the open, feeling sorry for the people I hadn't loved enough. Before I was buried completely by the falling world, I shouted, "Abuelo, ayudame," in my native Spanish. "Grandfather, help me!"

    Now, with the very real aftershocks of a series of unexpected endings, I walked into a little flower shop to buy a gift for a friend. The gentleman at the shop looked at me and turned away for a moment, returning with a fragrant flower. "For you. You need to smile today," he said in a rich and beautiful accent, offering me the flower with eyes full of care. It took all my strength not to cry. Then he gave me a grandfatherly hug that made me want to tell him everything.

    Instead, I thanked him and headed for the train. How did he know? I wondered. For the first time in weeks, I felt hope.

    After a morning hike in the Saneum HealingForest, 46-year-old firefighter Kang Byoung-wook has tea made from the bark of an elm tree, practices yoga (瑜伽), and makes a picture with dried flowers. He is one of 40 firefighters taking part in a three-day program, the aim of which is to offer "forest healing" (森林治愈); the firefighters all have posttraumatic stress disorder (创伤后应激障碍).

    Saneum is one of three official healing forests in South Korea. Soon there will be 34 more. South Koreans-many of whom suffer from work stress, digital addiction, and great academic pressure have accepted the medicalization of nature with great enthusiasm.

    There is increasing evidence that being outside in a pleasant natural environment is good for us. But how many of us get to enjoy nature regularly? Fewer and fewer, it seems. According to Lisa Nisbet, a psychology professor at Canada s Trent University, evidence for the benefits of nature is pouring in at a time when we are most disconnected from it.

    "We don't think of being outdoors as a way to increase happiness," says Nisbet. "We think other things will, like shopping or TV." But South Korea is starting to challenge this opinion.

    So what are some of the benefits of nature that Nisbet refers to? Being surrounded by nature has one obvious effect: It calms us and reduces our stress levels. This has been shown to lower blood pressure and heart rates.

    Another experiment conducted by psychologist Stephen Kaplan found that people who took a 50-minute walk in a park had better attention and short-term memory than those who took a walk along a city street.

    Perhaps what's more surprising is that nature may also make us more creative. David Strayer, a psychologist at the University of Utah, showed as much with a group of participants, who performed 50 percent better on creative problem-solving tasks after three days of wilderness backpacking.

    In fact, we may never know exactly what nature does to the brain. Something mysterious will always remain, and maybe that's as it should be.

    For the past two years I have been travelling and living abroad. Home has become more of a feeling than a place. I feel at home when I am with my family in London, but I also feel at home in Italy with friends I love. Home is no longer a picture of a house with a front door and some windows. It is more complicated than that.

    This is one of the reasons that celebrating the new year has become very important for me. I do not care about "New Year's resolutions (愿望)"—living abroad has made me constantly reconsider what kind of person I want to be and how I will live my life, so I don't feel the need to plan for change: I live for change.

    New Year's Eve has become my time to reconnect with the friends that makes me feel at home. Every year we try to reunite wherever we are and remember the time when we knew each other so well that we felt like a family. It is a moment to reconnect and get to know each other again. Last year, we travelled to a cottage in Ireland where we had no internet and no neighbours. In the middle of the countryside, away from our big and constantly changing lives, we were able to become like a little family again.

    This year, we went to Barcelona. It was a very big change. We were surrounded by culture and life and joy. There were bars and parties. It was different, but one thing stayed very much the same-I felt at home again and we felt like a family again.

    A lot of people feel that New Year's Eve cannot live up to expectations. Ideas such as the "New Year's kiss" and "resolutions" create a lot of pressure for people to have a night to remember, a night that will change their lives and perhaps make the next year one worth living. I think those people are missing the point. If Christmas is about family, why can't New Year be about friends?