If I were a truly brave person, I would live a life full of travels and adventures to wild and exotic lands. I would jump out of airplanes and ride a raft through the Colorado River. Climbing mountains would be just another afternoon for me. I would not let anything stop me.
However, I am not a courageous person. I am terrified of heights, and not entirely certain I would enjoy an adrenaline soaked trip through the rapids. Nope. I am a chicken with a serious fondness for private bathroom facilities.
If I were not afraid of how it would all turn out, I would be a brave writer, pushing the boundaries of polite narrative, and I would set the world on fire with my keen insights and challenge societies to make a change. I would challenge the status quo, and I would surprise my readers with a gripping tale of redemption.
If I were not secretly painfully shy, I would sing at karaoke bars, shocking the audience with my fearless performance. I would be forgiven for my untrained warbling voice just because I was having enough fun for every one.
I would audition for leading roles on stage and film. I would fearlessly embody my characters, and tell stories that need to be told. I would inspire the masses and my Oscar acceptance speech would be remembered for years.
This would be a grand time, and it would be completely out of character for me. I wonder how close I can get, while remaining authentic to my true self.
Of course I am not going to do most of these things. I do not sing or act. I am certainly not going to jump out of a plane. Climb a mountain? Yeah, right.
Are fears a manifestation of self? A protective mechanism of sorts?
Are all fears meant to be conquered?
Well, for now I will take it a little slower, and master the tasks immediately before me. I do not have to compete with others for personal achievement. I just have to do the best I can.
Maybe someday, the rapids will call my name.