(I’m still trying to learn this):
More than once I’ve packed my way-too-many possessions into large plastic tubs and started over. And although it doesn’t really get easier, there are new favorite cupcake places and best friends and unforgettable nights waiting right past that “I’m new here” stage.
I no longer sit practicing deep breathing in my car, willing my arm to act independently and please.God. open the door and drag the rest of me into a place filled with strangers.
There’s always that moment- that shuddering moment where a choice must be made.
A choice between tucking in, and clenching the jaw muscles and pushing forward.
A choice between living a little, or living fully.
There’s no trick to it. The only thing stopping you-me- any of us?
Fear.
It’s Fear, with its blackened teeth and dirty fingernails, smelling of rotting fish and day old diapers, creeping around the corner and threatening the freedom that adventure brings.
There’s an art to living that requires (more than) a bit of fearlessness.
And- I’m only speaking to myself now- the moments that I let fear win, when I can’t muster the courage to try, I miss out.
There’s no way around that, or over it, or under it.
To live passionately, to embrace the beauty and fullness of life, to run hard after a Creator who can dream so much bigger than me, is to punch fear. In the face, probably.
And walk away giggling, arms linked with Fearlessness. Who I’m just getting to know, but I see the wind blowing through her long hair, and her fingernails? They’re hot pink.
Be brave. Take risks. Nothing can substitute experience. Paulo Coelho.
Live Color Fully 
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