Courage to act. 7

The ocean’s call—

Feet leave the shore, waves crash loud— Growth lies past the tide.

It began with a boat. Not a grand ship, just a small wooden skiff tethered to a weathered dock. The paint was peeling, the oars slightly cracked, but it floated. I had come to the water that morning with no real plan, just a restlessness I couldn’t shake. The tide was calm, the horizon open. The boat rocked gently, inviting me to step in. I hesitated, unsure of where it might take me, or whether it could withstand the journey. But the thought of staying on shore—of never knowing—was heavier than the fear of drifting. So I untied the rope and pushed off, letting the current guide me.

Growth Through Motion

Growth isn’t something that comes to you while you sit still. It isn’t a gift wrapped in a neat box, ready to be opened and admired from the comfort of your chair. Growth requires action—movement, risk, and the willingness to step into the unknown. Yet, in our world, the adventures that push us to the edge, the ones where we barely make it out with our skin intact, or perhaps don’t at all, are undervalued. They’re whispered about as reckless or unnecessary, when in truth, they’re the beating heart of what it means to grow.

The Risk of Staying Still

Imagine a man sitting on the shore, staring out at the ocean. Day after day, he watches the waves crash against the rocks, wonders what lies beyond the horizon. He feels the pull, the urge to sail, but instead, he stays rooted in the sand. Perhaps he’s waiting for the perfect moment, the right wind, the safest conditions. But the truth is, the perfect moment never comes. The longer he waits, the more the ocean becomes a mirror, reflecting only his inaction.

Life is like that. The longer you stay inert, the harder it becomes to move. Fear grows roots, and those roots tangle around your feet. But the ocean—the world—isn’t waiting for you. It’s moving, changing, shifting. To grow, you have to leave the shore. You have to risk the waves, the storms, the possibility of getting lost. Because even if you do, you’ll have traveled further than you ever would sitting still.

Why We Fear the Adventure

Adventures are messy. They don’t guarantee a safe return or a satisfying conclusion. They’re unpredictable, often uncomfortable, and sometimes outright dangerous. But the alternative—a life lived within the confines of safety—is far messier in its own way. Stagnation creates its own chaos: the regret of untaken paths, the slow erosion of curiosity, the quiet suffocation of a spirit that longs to explore.

Society tends to glamorize success without showing the struggle that led to it. The glossy finish hides the scraped knees, the sleepless nights, the moments of doubt that make the journey worthwhile. And so, we hesitate. We convince ourselves that action must always lead to victory, forgetting that the act of trying—the courage to step forward—is often the victory itself.

The Lessons of Doing

The truth is, you learn by doing. By starting the business that might fail. By taking the trip that could go awry. By having the conversation you’ve been avoiding. Every action, successful or not, teaches you something. Every risk you take chips away at the fear that holds you back.

Even failure has its place. It’s the unspoken teacher, the kind that’s rough around the edges but invaluable in its lessons. Failure shows you your limits, but it also shows you how to stretch them. It reminds you that growth isn’t about perfection; it’s about persistence.

How to Embrace Action

1. Start Before You’re Ready: If you wait for the perfect moment, you’ll wait forever. Jump in, even if you don’t have all the answers.
2. Take Small Risks: Not every step has to be a leap. Sometimes, a single, tentative step forward is enough to break the inertia.
3. Reframe Failure: See it not as an endpoint but as a necessary part of the process. Every misstep is a step forward.
4. Celebrate the Attempt: Success isn’t the only thing worth celebrating. The act of trying, of daring, is just as important.

A ship battered by storms carries more stories than one that’s never left the harbor. The cracks in its hull, the patches on its sails, are testaments to journeys taken, risks embraced, and lessons learned.

To grow, you have to move. You have to venture into the unknown, risking not just failure but transformation. And when you do, you’ll find that the scars, the stumbles, and the near-misses are not things to regret but badges to wear. They’re proof that you lived, that you dared, that you grew.

As the skiff drifted further from the dock, the shoreline became a distant blur. The water beneath was deeper than I expected, the waves more restless. But there was also a strange calm—a quiet understanding that the journey had already begun, and with each stroke of the oar, I was moving closer to something new, something worth finding.