Friday, June 19, 2009

No Guts - No Glory, Not Even a Little

Lately I've been thinking about bravery.

There's all kinds. There's the kind that gets you in the chair every day, even though the Writing Fairies do not promise sparkly outcomes for anyone and are, in fact, quite stinting with their favors.

There's the kind that you need to make tough decisions and stick with them, even though it would be far harder to take the easy path.

And then there's the reckless, hell-for-leather kind that shares a very blurry thin line with sheer idiocy.

It's tempting to think the latter is testosterone-fueled. One of the members of our household scaled Yosemite's Half Dome the other day, a feat in itself, but that wasn't good enough - he had to then sit down on the Diving Board, an outcropping of rock that juts out over the zillion-foot drop to the valley floor.

I was all set to screech my fury and displeasure when I was shown the photographic evidence of that moment, when I had a not entirely comfortable revelation...

...pushing oneself to the ill-advised edge is something he just might - might - have inherited from a parent.

- - - - -

Life: So, sport, how about a nice nine-to-five job with benefits, now that you have college to pay for and people depending on you?

You: Hell no, I'm going to give this writing thing a shot.

Life: Ha. You know that the odds are catastrophic. You're going to end up -

You: I'll end up where I end up, but at least I will have driven myself there, thanks very much...

And hey, P, C, and S? You guys have the chops, I swear it. Keep being brave.


Martha Flynn said...

Ah, well now that I know you can be pushed towards the edge...let's try a little cliff diving, shall we?

Sophie Littlefield said...

huh - figurative, m sugar, it's all *figurative* :)

Patrick Shawn Bagley said...

Deep breaths...deep breaths.