Scaredy Cat

Chapter 10: Level Three

DARE TO BE GREAT – Step  9: Level III Risks

OK. It's time to go big or go home. The risks you've accomplished in Levels I and II have been manageable ones. Some have been rousing successes: you've come out looking better, and feeling stronger; you've earned a sense of satisfaction and excitement. Others have been colossal failures: you've been embarrassed, inconvenienced, or even offended. You've tried new experiences in almost every area of your life, and you've discovered (if you're still keeping notes!) some common threads in what works and what doesn't. Congratulations! But let's face it, none of the risks you've done so far have been exactly life-threatening. And here's a little secret: if you want to do something that will affect your life forever, if you want to do something life-changing, then you've got to grab your courage with both hands and leap right in. And that might involve doing something life-threatening.

Now look at the last list of risks, the breathtaking, swallow hard, oh-my-God Level III risks. Calculate the risk for each activity, as it applies to your life. Rank them as usual by degree of difficulty. And now, make your selection. Choose one activity, just one, that will change the status quo, change the way you think of yourself, change your life forever. If you're feeling a little uncertain, choose a circle, if you're gung ho and ready to go, choose a diamond. Enlist the aid of your support person, do your homework, be as thorough as you can in your preparations... and then GO FOR IT!

___ Shave your head. ___ Get a tattoo. ___ Go skydiving. ___ Go scuba diving. ___ Start a business. ___ Quit your job. ___ Leave home. ___ Get married. ___ Get a divorce. ___ Get pregnant. ___ Join a convent. ___ Join the circus. ___ Run for public office. ___ Run through a public place naked.

You've proven to yourself (and the people who know you) that you are not afraid to fail, not afraid to succeed, and above all, NOT AFRAID TO TRY. So go ahead, threaten your life. Shake it up a little. Shake it up a lot. I dare you! And I promise you'll come through the experience feeling more alive than you've ever felt before!

***

Everly tossed the book at the coffee table in disgust. She was sick of this woman. Easy for Dr. Lana B. Morris to sit in her cozy little writer's office, dreaming up ridiculous stunts for other people to try. She didn't have to suffer the consequences, did she? She could just go on her merry way, issuing edicts, collecting royalties, totally oblivious to the embarrassment and heartache she might be causing in thousands of innocent lives. A pox on writers and their insensitivity! Level III risks, yeah right. How about Level IV? Go over Niagara Falls in a barrel. Eat puffer fish. Throw a cream pie at the Prime Minister. Where does it all end? Is it alright to stop when your family and friends will no longer have anything to do with you? Is it alright to lose your nerve when you're in danger of ruining your life, not just changing it?

Everly looked at the list. Shave your head. Get a tattoo. Run through a public place, naked. Get serious! There were only two items on the list that were even remotely plausible, and with her track record she'd probably perish either way. She sighed heavily and mentally replayed yet again the incident at Arne's house. The strength of her reaction to Simon's name and Arne's game had confused and upset her, and even worse than that had been the two days of pining and moping and mourning that followed. Heartsick, lovesick, she thought, remembering the bird lady's poem. But for Simon? She had barely thought of him over the past couple of months; it didn't seem possible that she was still so attached. She leaned into the back of the couch and pressed her nose into the cushion where Simon's head had rested the last time, after milk and cookies and cuddling. Closing her eyes, she inhaled, searching for a trace of Simon's soap -- the fresh, woodsy scent she had loved. Nothing. Just the dusty smell of the fabric, and a stray cat hair or two.