Jumping in

When I was a child, my family used to holiday every summer in the coastal town of Noosa on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast (and now I'm living in Noosa, but that's another story). For many years in a row, we stayed at the same resort on the river, which had a short jetty out the front for boats to moor at.


All the other kids used to love to run and jump from the end of the jetty into the water, but I was too scared. What if the water was too shallow? What if I did a belly flop and everyone laughed? What if I landed on a stingray?


I’m not sure when it happened, but one day I grew tired of watching from the sidelines as the other kids laughed and screamed and twisted their bodies into every possible shape as they flew through the air and into the water. I was still scared, but my longing for excitement and joy finally came to outweigh my anxiety.


And so I jumped.


And then I jumped again.


And again. And again.


And I laughed and I screamed as I competed to be the one who jumped the furthest, the highest. The one who did the most mid-air twists, or the best mid-air splits, or made the biggest splash.


I know now that those times in my life when the fear becomes smaller than the desire to do the thing are the right moments to jump. And so here I am, preparing to dive into a new business.


What are you waiting to jump into?

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