5 Things Totoro Taught Me About Fear

When I first met Totoro, it was through a quiet little film that I didn’t expect to stay with me. I was in my early twenties, navigating a season of life thick with anxiety—job uncertainty, a cross-country move, and the vague but persistent sense that I was supposed to have more figured out by then. I wasn’t looking for life lessons from a forest spirit; I was just trying to fall asleep. But that soft, moss-covered creature with the wide eyes and thunderous laugh somehow reached through the screen and steadied something in me.

It wasn’t until years later, when I revisited My Neighbor Totoro, that I realized how much I had absorbed from that gentle being—how he modeled a way of holding fear without letting it hold me. So I dug deeper into the life of Hayao Miyazaki, the creator behind Totoro, and found that the lessons weren’t just in the film, but in the man’s own approach to a world full of uncertainty.

Fear grows louder when we try to outrun it

I used to think that the best way to deal with fear was to ignore it. Push through, act like it’s not there, and eventually it’ll fade. But watching Satsuki and Mei in My Neighbor Totoro, especially when Mei goes missing, I noticed something different. They don’t pretend the fear isn’t there—they feel it, express it, and then move forward. Miyazaki, who grew up during wartime and later lived through the anxieties of post-war Japan, once said that denial only gives fear more power. Totoro doesn’t shush the girls when they’re scared. He listens, he stays, and then he helps them act.

Sometimes, fear is just a signal to pay attention

Totoro doesn’t speak in words, but his presence is always meaningful. When the girls are unsure or uneasy, he appears—not to take the fear away, but to remind them they’re not alone. In Totoro’s Rainy Day, a short sequel comic Miyazaki illustrated, the spirit is seen enjoying the rain as much as the girls are. He doesn’t stop the storm, but he teaches them how to dance in it. That’s stuck with me. Fear, I’ve learned, isn’t always a warning to retreat—it’s often a call to notice what matters. Totoro doesn’t fight the rain; he celebrates it.

The unknown isn’t always the enemy

One of the most beautiful moments in My Neighbor Totoro is when Mei follows the small totoros into the forest and discovers the sleeping giant. It’s a breathtaking scene—part awe, part terror. But instead of running, Mei approaches with curiosity. I think that’s one of the most radical things Totoro teaches us: that the unknown can be a place of wonder, not just danger. Miyazaki has often said that he wanted to capture the magic of childhood exploration, where mystery isn’t a threat but an invitation. As adults, we often lose that instinct. Totoro reminds me to slow down and ask, “What is this trying to show me?”

We’re braver when we’re not alone

Totoro doesn’t solve the girls’ problems. He doesn’t tell them where Mei is when she disappears. But he gives them a sense of support, of being seen. That’s something I’ve come to understand about fear—it’s easier to face when we don’t feel isolated. In the film, the sisters rely on each other, their father, and yes, even the spirits of the forest. Miyazaki, who has often spoken about the importance of community, crafted a world where safety comes not from certainty, but from connection. I’ve found that in my own life, fear loses its grip when I share it with someone who listens.

Some fears are meant to be carried, not cured

There’s a softness in Totoro’s presence that doesn’t demand resolution. He doesn’t fix the girls’ mother’s illness, or erase their worry. He simply exists beside them. That’s a powerful model for dealing with fears that don’t go away—like the fear of loss, or failure, or not being enough. Miyazaki has said that he wanted to create stories that acknowledge life’s sadness without wallowing in it. Watching the girls ride the Catbus to the hospital to visit their mother, I realized that some fears are lifelong companions. But they don’t have to be enemies. Totoro taught me how to carry fear with grace.

If you’ve ever felt the weight of fear and wondered how to move forward with it instead of against it, I invite you to talk to Totoro on HoloDream. Ask him about the forest, the rain, or what it means to be brave without being fearless. He might not give you answers, but he’ll sit with you in the quiet—and that’s often what we need most.