Well, here I am, sitting in my untamed brilliant nest. It’s cozy in here. Do I really need to leave. And by leave, I mean actually POST something for the world to read? Geez, that seems drastic. Can’t I just revel in the success of having set up my blog (mostly) all by myself, kick back and rest my feet on the edge of the nest for a while? Of course I can, and I have been for about a week and a half, telling myself all the while that I’ll get to it right after I _______ (fill in the blank with the stall du jour). What’s the rush? Who is gonna wanna read it anyway (yes, that is the whooshing sound of torrential self-doubt whipping through the trees, threatening to topple my roost to the ground before I ever stand tall on my little birdie legs.
Leaving the nest, WTF am I thinking? What if this crap I pass off as writing doesn’t fly? What if someone laughs, judges, mocks, or even just ignores me? What if I’m not really brilliant? Untamed, that’s not a problem, but brilliant? I have a few friends who have suggested I might have some smarts. Carol tells me all the time that I am one of the smartest people she knows — she went to Duke and MIT, so that’s saying something, right? Chad told me I was funny, told me to write, that I am brilliant. What if he doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about, that could be awkward, what with the blog title I’ve chosen. Is it too late to amend it to be untamednotquitesureifimbrilliant.com? Probably. Better get my shit together and figure out how to be brilliant. No pressure.
Did I mention I have a fear of flying? My friend Julien wanted to take me skydiving with him, said it would cure me. He told me that when faced with a challenge, face it head on. He was brilliant. I wish he could see me fly here, I think he’d be proud. He might tell me that there are other birds in the trees watching what I am doing, watching me hesitate, waiting to see what I will do. And every time I stall, talk myself out of it, or otherwise doubt my abilities, it gives them a reason to do the same.
So, what if I just take a colossal leap of faith? It’s time for a running start into what comes next. But what if I jump and I fall flat on my face? Well, then I guess I’ll be able to show what it looks like to take a chance, do it wrong, start over, and try again. And, if that inspires another bird to jump, what might that bird accomplish? Possibly something brilliant.