I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a giant chicken. I really am. It’s not something I decided on as a kid, aspiring to be a giant chicken.
But here I am. Living the dream…as a chicken. Most days anyway.
And it’s great. Life as a chicken isn’t so bad. It’s really comfortable. It’s warm. It’s cozy.
But it’s also causing an identity crisis.
I’m not meant to be a chicken. Deep down…I know it.
This is usually when courage shows up and goes against everything chicken.
Like hitting the publish button on an article like this. It’s personal. It’s a little too honest and there is a good possibility that I will come to regret it later.
But I still do it. Maybe because I’m crazy…I haven’t ruled that out. But maybe it’s for a different reason.
Because I’m not meant to be a chicken. And neither are you. And as soon as this thought creeps in, courage shows up.
Courage is real. It’s an opportunity to go for it. And that’s scary.
It’s pushing past the comfort zone. And it’s safe in the comfort zone. But we don’t grow there. And life is about growing.
So I hit the publish button. And I quiet the anxiety that follows courage. Because I want to be real. And I want to grow.
One small dose of courage at a time.
Because I’m not meant to be a chicken. And neither are you.