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. 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 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.

...