There was once a quiet valley with two cliffs that faced each other — one called Here, and one called There.
Here was safe. Familiar. Predictable.
People built routines there — not always happy, but known.
Even discomfort, when expected, can start to feel like comfort.
Across the chasm stood There.
It shimmered in the distance — full of possibility.
Dreams lived there. Wholeness. New beginnings.
But no one had crossed in years.
Between Here and There stood a bridge.
Old. Strong. Waiting.
But most never took a step.
A young woman came to the edge one morning, her shoulders heavy from carrying the question:
“Is this all there is?”
She looked across the valley to There.
Her heart stirred. Her stomach twisted.
She had visited this spot many times before,
but the fear always won.
“What if I fail?”
“What if I’m wrong?”
“What if I cross and still feel empty?”
She sat down and wept — not loudly, but deeply.
The quiet kind of grief that comes when you know something must change,
but you still don’t know how.
Beside her lay an old, weathered book.
Its spine cracked, its pages soft with age.
She had picked it up from a secondhand shop months ago —
but never read it.
She opened it now, her hands trembling slightly,
and her eyes caught a line underlined in blue ink:
“You don’t have to be fearless.
You just have to be done pretending you’re not ready.”
Her breath caught.
She flipped to the next page, where someone had scribbled in the margin:
“You carry more weight standing still than you ever will moving forward.”
That night, she couldn’t sleep.
Not from fear this time — but from recognition.
She rose before dawn, packed only what mattered, and walked to the edge.
She didn’t wait for signs.
She didn’t wait for certainty.
She placed one foot on the bridge.
It held.
Then another.
The wind whispered, but her steps were sure.
Halfway across, she looked back.
Here looked smaller now — not wrong, just complete.
She faced forward, not because the future was promised,
but because she was ready to meet the version of herself
who was waiting on the other side.
You are not weak for hesitating — only human.
But every dream eventually asks this of you:
To move.
Not when you’re certain — but when you’re ready enough.
To stop waiting for the fear to go away… and walk with it instead.
Because the gap between where you are and where you want to be
is not closed by waiting.
It’s closed by courageous action.
You don’t need more time.
You need more trust — in your capacity to grow through the unknown.
So step forward.
One decision at a time.
Your future isn’t waiting for perfect you —
just a braver version of the one you are today.
Body of Brilliance 