"Fear is only as deep as the mind allows." - Japanese Proverb
Hey there!
In the chilling silence of the movie Hush (2016), we're drawn into the world of Maddie Young, a deaf writer seeking solitude in the woods, far from the maddening crowd of New York City.
Her cabin, a sanctuary bathed in light, becomes a silent stage for a heart-pounding drama.
As we peer through the camera's lens, nestled among the trees, we witness a scene laced with suspense.
Dark, ominous music envelops us, heightening the tension as a shadowy figure with a crossbow inches ever closer.
Inside, Maddie remains blissfully unaware, her fingers dancing over the keyboard. It's a masterclass in suspense, where the mere hint of danger sends a shiver down our spine.
We don’t consciously perceive it, but our brains and bodies are working overtime on our fear response.
Our brains, those squishy marvels, don't really distinguish between the fear of a crossbow-wielding maniac in a movie and the fear of leaping into the unknown.
The same cogs turn, the same bells ring.
But here's where the magic happens: when we recognize this, we can turn fear on its head.
We can choose to see these moments not as stop signs, but as green lights to growth, to transformation, to courage.
I want to share an important personal milestone with you.
I am “throwing my backpack over the fence.”
After 22 years, I am stepping away from my role as President of a successful commercial real estate company. I am fully dedicate myself to my passion of inspiring courage.
I am giving up comfort in exchange for the unknown.
I am giving up stability and a paycheck for the promise of impact.
I am giving up consistency for excitement.
I am giving up status and title for passion.
Terrified?
Absolutely.
But electrified with excitement?
Without a doubt!
You can check out my backpack flying over the fence at my brand new website:
This Week’s Scare Your Soul Challenge: Throw Your Own Backpack Over the Fence
This week, I'm inviting you, dear reader, to dance with your own fear. To find your fence and, with a racing heart, throw your backpack over it.
It doesn't have to be leaving a job—it could be as simple as speaking your truth, trying something new, or reaching out to mend a fence.
What matters is that you step forward - into your unknown - in some way.
Here's to the excitement that beckons, to the hurdles we'll leap, and to the extraordinary metamorphosis that lies just beyond our courage.
With heart and hope,