The doggos see me grasp the familiar mug from the shelf, fill it with dark brown liquid and think I’m going to step outside with them like I used to with my morning mug. I had to give up drinking hot coffee and switch to cold brew, but I miss cradling that warm mug on these cool mornings. I look at Denver, standing in anticipation and say, “I’m writing.”

He lays back down because he knows ‘writing’ means, do not disturb. Winnie hops into her chair that is covered with a flannel sheet. She’s not a fan of cool mornings, so she has full rein over flannel until noon. Her head lays on the arm of the chair so she can comfortably gaze out the window to make sure nothing moves in the front yard and let’s me know if she sees anything alarming.

Her bark causes delivery drivers to leave packages on the side of the road instead of stepping foot in the yard and very few brave souls actually venture to the porch.

I’m not a fan of the word, “Fearless”, which is odd considering I used to work for Fearless Living Academy, but the word has more meaning if we split it in half. It’s alright to fear, but less. Fear has it’s place and I believe it’s good to have some. There is a such thing as ‘healthy fear’, which keeps us from laying our hand on a hot stove and sticking screwdrivers in electrical outlets, or maybe that’s just common sense.

I’ve been listening to Elizabeth Gilbert’s book, “Big Magic”, where she talks about fear trying to rule over our creativity and she reminded me of the road trip. The creative process is a journey and all kinds of emotions want to come along for the ride, but we need to be selective of the ones we let in the car. We can acknowledge fear and give it a seat in the back, but who gets to sit up front with us? That’s where all the emotions that help plummet us forward get to sit and right beside creativity is bravery.

Yesterday, I stopped by one of my favorite grocery stores and a young man who works there walked up to me to say, ‘hello’. I was so happy to see him still there and told him so. I saw this young man on his first day working and he looked so nervous and extremely unsure of being there. He had taken a path that is still common for young people to travel, but discovered quickly how soul crushing adulting can be.

He finished school, got a job and moved away from his family for this job he went to school for, but was absolutely miserable. At 26 years old, he left the job and moved back home to live with his mother. On the day I first met him he looked like he’d been run over repeatedly by a steam roller and left laying in the middle of the road for dead.

I introduced myself to him and saw the name Seth written in Sharpie on his apron, so I welcomed him to the store. I told him how it was one of my favorite places and just knew he would love working here given the chance. I felt like it was completely different than the job he had a degree for and maybe it felt like a huge step down, but I saw him as brave. He was restocking the dairy case and I wasn’t sure if his hands trembled from the cold, or if he was really that nervous about his first day on the job.

A couple of months have passed and when I saw him yesterday, he looked like a completely different human. He stood up tall and straight, but had a relaxed essence to him as if knew he was home. He looked me straight in the eye and asked, “How are you doing?” Pause. I swallowed and said, “I just signed up for a table at a winter market to sell scarves I made over the summer and I’m absolutely terrified!”

He chuckled warmly and asked, “When and where is the market?” I told him the name of the bakery and he exclaimed, “I love that place!”, and I’m like, “Me too!”

He said he would try to stop by to lend moral support as I showed him photos on my phone of the scarves. He loved the photos and his excitement over the scarves matched my excitement of meeting him on his first day. It was like he flooded me with his newfound confidence gained within his own terrifying terrain and I was grateful to return fear to the back of the car.

It’s okay to let fear be present on our journey, but we should never hand over the keys to the car as we humbly embrace the terrifying, yet marvelous terrain of unknown outcomes.

Feature Photo by Connor Wilkins on Unsplash