I’ve never been a fan of the No Fear bumper stickers–the clarion call of extreme sports. I guess if you slap this on your bumper you fly through the air with the greatest of ease, never troubled by angst. You hit slopes, courses, or dirt with high impact and low concern. There’s no panic button in your world. How easy it must be, having no fear.
I would prefer “Do it scared.” As one whose stomach loves to writhe itself into labyrinthine knots at the suggestion of a thought, whose heart beats fast at the slightest change in her environment, I believe I wander through life with a lot of fear and not that much calm. I’m much like my cat, ready to break down like a football player at the slightest noise. The only difference is, I don’t scurry for cover each time I can’t discover the source of that sound. I move forward, tentatively, but forward nonetheless.
The day I stop doing stuff scared is the day I become boring. Stuck. Self-satisfied.
This morning, as I head off to present to teachers–exhausted teachers, purple-heart teachers who deserve a vacation in the Bahamas rather than a lecture from me–I am scared. I never feel I can bring our warriors in the trenches enough “stuff” to make my hour with them worthwhile. It’s not a low self-esteem thing (well, maybe it is) but more of a “want to be all things to all people” thing. I’m scared my words and presentation aren’t enough. That they deserve so much more.
That type of scared has me working on a Sunday to revise and update a presentation I’ve done several times before. It has me talking it out loud all the way to the staff development site. It has me
In her blog “It’s 3 AM and I’m still afraid” author and freelance writer coach Hope Clark