She Dares Boldly | Dare Boldly

Superheroes have one. So do major brands like TOMS, IBM, NIKE, and charity: water. And so do I – an origin story. But there was a time when mine wasn’t serving me well, so I changed it. My origin story.

Years ago, on a personal development retreat in the heart of British Columbia’s Valhalla mountain range, I found myself reflecting by a serene lake. It was there I realized that the origin story I had been telling about myself wasn’t just inadequate; it was harmful. In my narrative, I was the victim of my parents’ poor planning, an unwelcome disappointment born the wrong sex and on the wrong day. Although I often shared this story as a ‘funny anecdote,’ the truth was far from amusing. Each retelling was like picking at the scab of a deep, painful wound.

To heal, I needed to rewrite my origin story into one that celebrated my journey and supported my life’s path. I had to craft a narrative that I loved, for this story lived in my mind, sustained solely by my own recounting.

The significance of origin stories cannot be overstated. Look at any superhero or successful brand, and you’ll find their vision, mission, and values anchored in an origin story. This narrative is more than a backstory; it shapes their identity, highlights their strengths and weaknesses, and charts their destiny. Their origin story is not just a tale of the past; it’s a guiding force for all they do.

As we navigate the journey of our lives, the profound impact of our personal narratives cannot be overstated. Unlike fictional superheroes, our lives aren’t scripted with predetermined strengths, weaknesses, and destinies. This lack of a pre-written script is not a deficit but a remarkable opportunity. It’s our chance to author our beginnings, redefine our shaping forces, and understand the currents that have carried us to our present.

There was a time when my origin story was a narrative of sorrow, marked by disappointment and loss. It weighed me down. But with care and intention, I rewrote my story into one that echoes how cherished and valued I am in this world. This new narrative celebrates my existence, setting the stage for a life brimming with abundance, passion, and joy. It underpins my raison d’être and, in good times and in challenging times, it provides direction, purpose, and focus.

Your origin story is far more than a mere collection of past events. It’s the foundation upon which your current identity rests, a rich source of insights reflecting your deepest values, fears, and aspirations. Engaging with this narrative isn’t just about revisiting the past—it’s about reclaiming it. You’re seizing the pen that drafts your life story, acknowledging that every challenge, every joy, and every lesson has played a part in shaping the extraordinary person you are today.

Now, think about your origin story; the story you tell about the times and circumstances into which you entered this world. Does it elevate you? When you recount it, do you feel like a superhero in your own life? Does it inspire you to leap with joy and dance as if no one’s watching?

If not, what if.. you wrote your own origin story? What would it be?

Then, take the leap. Write it. Create the narrative that lifts you, that transforms you from a passive character in your life story to the hero you were always meant to be.

Far away, at the edge of the land where it meets the sea, there lived a young woman who believed she could fly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the townspeople said when she stood at the edge of the cliff to test her belief. “Birds fly. Humans stay walking on the ground.”

The young woman did not believe that was the only way to be human. Every night before going to bed, she did push-ups and lifted weights to strengthen her wings.

And every night before falling asleep she whispered to the dream fairies, “Let my dreams be filled with flight.”

And every night the dream fairies flitted into her sleep, scattering visions of flying and soaring into her dreams.

And in the morning, she would awaken, repeat her exercises and go out to the edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean far below to test the strength of her wings.

One day, as the young woman stood at the edge of the cliff lifting her arms up and down like the seagulls high above, a little girl approached and asked, “Why are you standing here flapping your arms?”

The young woman, surprised that a child would even have to ask such a question, replied without stopping what she was doing. “Practising flying.”

The child watched for a few moments longer before saying, “Well that’s silly. Why don’t you just leap?”

The young woman stopped lifting her arms up and down. She gazed down at the little girl where she stood looking up at her. Sky blue eyes met sky blue eyes. Flaxen hair floated around her face just as hers floated in the morning breeze.

The child smiled up at her and the young woman felt all her fears of falling come crashing into her like the waves crashing against the cliffs below.

“What if I fall?” she asked the little girl.

“What if you don’t?” the little girl replied as she threw her arms wide and cast her body off the edge of the cliff.

The young woman watched, wide-eyed and breathless, as the child’s body floated gracefully on the air, catching the breeze and letting it carry her down to the surface of the waves before lifting her up and up and up to the top of the cliff.

In awe, the young woman watched the child land effortlessly back on the cliff beside her.

“See! It’s easy,” said the child.

And the young woman took a deep, deep breath and spread her arms wide.

And stopped.

“I don’t think I can,” she said as tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her face.

And the child shrugged her shoulder and smiled and said, “That’s okay. One day, you will stop practicing and cast your doubts to the wind and follow me!”

And with that, the child leapt from the cliff and soared with the seagulls flying high.

Watching and wishing she could, the young woman slowly lowered her arms and turned away from the cliff. Shoulders hunched, feet dragging along the dusty trail, she began the long walk back to the village.

“It is not the townspeople who doubt,” she said to herself. “It’s me.”

And she stopped and repeated it to herself. “It’s not the townspeople who doubt. It’s me.”

And she kept repeating it and repeating it until realization dawned. “I’ve been hiding behind practising flying because I doubt I can actually do it!”

Full of the awareness of the power of her doubts to tie her to the ground, she stopped walking away from the edge, turned quickly around and began running towards the cliff. Arms spread wide, she screamed and laughed and yelled loud and fierce as she cast her body over the edge.

And as her feet left the ground, her wings unfurled and she began to fly.

And that’s where you’ll find her today. Far from the edge of fear, wings unfurled, soaring amidst her dreams and dancing in the lightness of being free from doubt.