I see fear for what it is, a roadblock to my growth that I can breakthrough with ease.

A heavy stage curtain looks like a wall from a few feet away. One solid line, floor to ceiling. Then a hand goes in at the right place and it parts without effort.

Fear does a convincing impression of concrete. It arrives as a wall — the project impossible, the call unmakeable, the whole month blocked. Standing closer usually reveals something smaller and specific: one sentence to write, one number to dial, one person to mildly disappoint.

Ease isn't the absence of effort. It's what happens when an obstacle turns out to be a single action rather than a landscape.

Feel for the gap. There's nearly always one.