do one thing every day that scares you: day one

This is the photo that commanded me to sit up and survey the boulder of fear that has lodged itself somewhere between my throat and the pit of my stomach. It compelled me to shift it in order to launch this series. And when I discovered that the photographer was 18 years old, and already exploding with the brave discovery of where her talents lie, I reached out to Whitney Justesen, and asked her permission to share it.

This fear of setting goals and most crippling of all, taking action, has embedded itself recently as a lead weight within me. Fear feels heavy and crushing. It presses against my heart, cutting off the blood supply to hope and possibility. It’s a force with the certain power to propel me into rapid descent—the THUD of risk turned to failure: me, knocked down and splayed open, alone.

So I’ve become more practiced at side-stepping opportunity and dodging confrontation, of averting glances and fine–tuning avoidance techniques and smothering bravery. In writing this, it suddenly occurs to me that if practice improves ability, then mastering negative behaviors simply improves the chance of empty results. This sounds simple. But why is it that simple isn’t always easy to grasp? This understanding shifts shape and cunningly slips away from me like liquid between my fingers.

I look to my past, and recall acts of bravery, where soaring encounters eclipsed uncertainty. To times when fear failed to crowd out intuition and my heart sustained moments of joy, long and pure. And as I take stock, the list of accomplishments and inner victories begins to cascade. My chest rises and my belly begins to soften.

I’m no stranger to rough terrain—I’ve scaled it and I’ve reached emotional summits and firm ground in doing so. History has shown that it isn’t uncommon for me to be first out of the blocks to lift my voice, take a stance, achieve a result, or create something that makes me bubble with pride. I’ve taken those first steps toward accomplishment and not lost my footing. But I’m in different territory at the moment—territory that feels more like a maze. I take those steps toward a goal . . . and at some point . . . I pull back without completion. The boulder descends with a BANG! and I run for cover. I move out of my own way. And I don’t pick up the pieces.

I haven’t been at all sure of the direction this self-imposed challenge might take (other than rattling me enough to nearly avoid doing it.) But I understand now that this is largely about examining some of that rubble—both real and imagined—turning the pieces around and over, and following through on some things that have patiently sat, awaiting my return. I need to complete some things I began—recently and a long time ago. That’s all I know for certain. But it’s enough for Day One!

bliss ♥