That morning, as I looked out the window, I could feel my increased heart rate.

A sense of both excitement and anxiety that you can only really understand if you've lived it.

I was worried about what people might think, what I might lose, what life might have in store for me.

Because that was... what I might lose, what life might have in store for me.

Because that was all I knew to focus on.

I'd programmed myself to do one thing, worry.

And when your one thing is worrying, it's inevitable that you see life through a lens of scarcity.

Your setting is on maintain, meaning you protect the little you have as opposed to seeking more you play defense to keep the world out as opposed to the offense required to bring the world in so that it may be reshaped.

That morning, cold, wet, gray, I was numb.

But deep down, completely oblivious to me, there was a little fire burning.

Too small to recognize.

A spark of courage in its infancy.

See at that moment, if someone asked me, can you even be scared and courageous at the same time? I would have said

those two words do not go together. Right? We're talking night and day, fire, and water, black, and white.

But time's job is to reveal, and it has shown that there is no courage without fear.

There is no fire, no matter how bright or powerful, that doesn't by default bring about those

mysterious shapes dancing in the shadows.

If you want fire, great.

But you must learn to dance with what hides in the periphery.

You must learn to go where your impulse begs you not to.

And so that morning, I went to dance with my demons.

What if the one thing holding you back in your life was you?

...