Yes You Can
The boy scrambled down the jagged rocks that painted a barren landscape on the Mediterranean’s calm morning seas.
He disregarded the scrapes and cuts, the trickle of blood below his knee, the small gash at the base of his left palm.
He leapt from steep to flat, gripping the massive granite walls, still high enough to ignore the slippery danger caused by centuries of waves that polished the lower outcrops into skating rinks.
He watched the ebb and flow of the tide, waited patiently until he felt in rhythm with its timing, jumped and landed on the tiny three foot beach revealed only when the waters receded.
He scuttled through the opening and into the giant cave.
Inside, he stood, smiled and walked a few feet to his favorite sitting place, a bench carved in stone by the elements and flooded with light from the only open shaft above him.
He set his backpack down, pulled out the spiral-bound notebook and four color pen.
He chose green and began to write.
Not too long before him, a few thousand miles away, another boy climbed a different peak, a steep, traitorous mountain, following an old goat trail.
He glanced up as he made his ascent, at the tall, serrated ridge that stabbed the sky like a massive ice pick crowned with snow.
The majestic Alps spoke to him, dared him to conquer them.
He trudged upward, neglecting the trivial pain in his hands and calf muscles, focused only on the goal of reaching the top.
From that summit he sought another and many more thereafter, from the weight room to the silver screen to the people’s choice.
He had a funny name: Arnold.
At the age of nine, a young girl lost her father, a wealthy businessman who cared for her and provided her with fine schooling.
Ten years later, she left it all behind and moved to India, to live a life of her own making, a serene, dedicated calling of servitude, a path she never abandoned.
The world knew her as Theresa, Mother Theresa.
On a hillside in Thailand, a girl with almond eyes plucks at a flower and envisions a house full of children laughing.
In a Korean forest, two brothers battle fiercely with staffs and swords, determined to become the next Grand Master.
What about you?
Do you still have a dream?
Have you cast it aside, stained by the toxins of naysayers and all-knowing realists?
What if you could wake it back up, roust it a bit, spook it out of its self-imposed coffin?
What if you let yourself believe again, even a little?
Take a selfish, quiet walk with yourself, that forgotten dream as your only companion.
Listen to the voice that says:
“Yes, you can.”
For almost two decades, I ignored my dream.
It reared its ugly, glorious head only for me to strike it down, bury it in some hidden corner.
Still, it snuck in on me, followed me in the shadows, whispered like a ghost I couldn’t exorcise.
At high cost, it made itself heard.
I remembered the four-color pen.
This time I chose blue.
That’s A View From The Ridge…
Best-selling author, Ridgely Goldsborough has written 19 books to date, 5 on emotional intelligence and has developed a phenomenal program called CustomerConversionFormula.com that you can get absolutely free as a member of the Groove community.