The demons and the boat

Imagine you’re in a small boat at sea. The deck is crowded with demons fear, shame, old stories, judgments you’ve carried for years.

The moment you pick up the oars, they wake up.
They start shouting.
They tell you the storm’s too big. They tell you you’re not strong enough. They tell you to wait for the perfect day with clear skies and calm waters.

They know if you keep waiting for ideal conditions, you’ll never leave the spot you’re in.

Here’s the truth: committed action is a decision.
It’s not a mood, a burst of inspiration, or the day you finally “feel ready.”
If you wait until you feel like it, you’ll wait until you’re dead.

Perfection is the fantasy that keeps you anchored.
Movement is the reality that gets you somewhere.

Stop looking for the clean, cinematic version of growth the kind where the waves part, the sky opens, and you’re suddenly rowing with ease. Growth is messy. It’s salt in your eyes, water in your shoes, and your hands blistering around the oars.

You don’t have to enjoy it. You just have to keep moving.
Action is the only thing that changes the shoreline you see.

The demons will tell you to wait until you’ve planned it better. Until you’ve figured out how to row without getting wet. Until you’ve read three more books about rowing and mastered the perfect stroke.

You can’t think your way into the life you want; you have to row your way there.

And when you row in the storm you’ve got, you discover something the demons don’t want you to know: they can shout, but they can’t steer.