The Isolation Journals - Day 28

This Isolation Journals project was originally billed as a 30 day situation.  I've heard some chatter that it might continue, which would be great.  The thing is, now that the end is in sight, I feel a sense of anticipation that I think is misplaced.  In my head, I realize now I was subconsciously conflating the end of this project with the end of the pandemic, which is obviously not accurate or true.

Oh well.

Today's prompt comes from a tap dancer, choreographer, and actor, Ayodele Casel.

Prompt:  Write about a time when your bravery or curiosity was stronger than your fear.

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Where is the line between bravery and stupidity?  Is it in the eye of the beholder, or do we trust the person having the experience to make the call?  Maybe curiosity is a more useful term than bravery.

I don't think any of the things I've done in life were particularly brave. Except becoming an elementary school librarian.  I've grown accustomed to -and even enjoy!- the kids who can hold a conversation and articulate their needs, but the 5-and-under crowd remains a terrifying cipher, but I digress.  

Sure, I've had to do some hard things, emotionally, physically, intellectually.  But those challenges don't make me feel brave.  What would have been the alternative to putting on big girl pants and dealing?  Maybe not dealing and carrying on would have been the brave thing - admitting vulnerability.

Back to curiosity.  I've done a lot of arguably stupid things out of curiosity.  "Don't touch the stove, it's hot," mom warned 4-year-old me.  Sounds like a challenge, I must have thought as I blindly slapped my hand down on the stove top to see for myself.  

It was hot.

"Bet you can't eat everyone else's wasabi lumps in one go," said four friends while we ate sushi in a run-down converted diner with a questionable health score.  Sounds like a challenge.

It was also hot.

"You gonna try the world's hottest hot sauce?" Andy asked as we perused the Pepper Palace in St. Augustine.  

Do you see where this is going?  The theme here seems to be scalding my outsides or insides to prove a point, and for what?  Stupidity or curiosity?  A story to tell?

I think I'm failing at this exercise, which I'm sure was meant to encourage a deep probing of the self.  It's not that my mind is a shallow kiddie pool, surrounded by 'no diving' warnings and always suspiciously warm.  It's just that the waters are so deep and so frigid I don't feel brave enough to take the plunge this morning.  And maybe admitting that...is brave?