Are You a Risk Taker? Or Do You Play It Safe?
You know that feeling you get when it comes time to make a crucial decision? Not a what's-for-dinner decision, but a this-could-change-my-life decision?
It's like your heart is an eager child on a trip to the Magic Kingdom. She's dying to go on Space Mountain and won't take no for an answer. She looks up at you, Mickey Mouse ears on her head and a gleam in her eye, yanking on your arm: "C'mon! Let's go!"
But your brain is a nervous Nellie. What if the coaster car flies off the track? Shouldn't we check the inspection records first? Can we just go on It's a Small World and call it a day?
You stare at the park map, biding your time.
Now, I've lived in central Florida for the better part of three decades, so I've been to Disney World about a bazillion times.
It's a Small World is a nice, relaxing, after-lunch ride. You know exactly what to expect right down to the song.
(Sorry I got that tune stuck in your head).
But it's nothing like riding a roller coaster in a dark building. Where will it drop? When will it turn? Will I make it out of here alive?
Look at that shooting star . . . woahhhhhhh!
What Do You Think?
Are You a Risk Taker?See results without voting
So here's this challenge presented by the universe--wrapped up nice and pretty in shiny paper--and it makes me altogether excited and uneasy: Move my family to a different time zone for a fresh start with new opportunities, or stay here following the same road.
Do we move across the country to the unfamiliar and mysterious? Or do we stay where we're rooted in the illusion of stability? The status quo. The same.
What will my extended family say? They'll be angry, hurt, upset. They will say I'm irresponsible. That I shouldn't wander so far from the nest. But is this really my concern? Challenges reveal painful realities, and this one is no different: perhaps they're a crutch, a security blanket, a net to catch me if I fall.
What if we fail? What if the money runs out? I woke up this morning with a picture of myself wandering the streets with my girls. I shook the thought from my head to avoid attracting these negative events.
Is there a greater chance of losing everything we have in another state? Not likely. Yet that picture plays in my head. Where does it come from?
More pleasant thoughts of raising my girls in this new place send me into reverie: I picture camping trips and local farms, picnics under trees, climbing up mountains, and tossing stones in creeks.
(And no cockroaches and palmetto bugs and fire ants. Please, no more fire ants.)
I need to try harder. Break habits. Take chances. Leave this apprehension behind. After all, they wouldn't be here if I hadn't taken a leap of faith years ago (and perhaps, neither would I).
The hardest decisions reap the greatest reward, even when you have no idea what the trophy looks like.
So, what do you do? Do you give in to the exuberant child, locking yourself into a darkened roller coaster ride? Or do you play it safe and hop into the Small World boat, snapping shots of colorful robots repeating a monotonous verse?
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