I used to be fearless. Five, ten, or even 15 years ago, I was much more daring and relatively unaware of any limits. I dreamed big and shot for the stars because… well, why not?

In more recent years (and this is painful to admit), I’ve grown worrisome and susceptible to self-doubt. I’ve become hesitant, particularly with decision making. And not the big ones like purchasing furniture, whether to switch careers or what community to live in. I mean decisions of any kind. Small ones. Decisions as flexible and modifiable as rearranging my living room, deciding where to go to eat or making weekend plans – for fear I won’t like what I decide. This carries over to the big decisions too, so heavily that it’s tough to move forward because I don’t have a clear path and I often wonder… what if I can’t? what if it doesn’t? what if I regret? what if…

I’m not sure where this seemingly sudden apprehension comes from, or why it’s here. Social media and its magnifying glass on all the cool, perfect things everyone else has going on? Media and its constant gloom and doom? My ideas of who I am and what/where I should be? I don’t have answers, or know how to grow out of it yet, but I suppose step one is recognizing it. Admitting it. Then starting to try to untie it somehow.

Perhaps these thoughts bouncing around in my head are why I’ve taken note to some peculiar activity in my back yard that I’ve never witnessed (or at least noticed) before. My home backs up to a line of trees, so I’m blessed with seeing some wildlife daily. No moose or deer yet, but gorgeous red cardinals often explore the Cedar tree, a pheasant occasionally tromps through and those pesky little bunnies often check out my well-fenced garden (suckers!). But what has been fascinating in a whole new way are the squirrels. I haven’t given squirrels any thought outside the times when they play their roadkill game, so I’m astonished with what I see out my back door.

These squirrels jump – tree to tree and branch to branch – with faith I idolize. They joyously leap to branches that any creature with a brain would recognize as too flimsy for their body weight. But even though they’re 20+ feet in the air, they leap with absolute certainty. They commit. Then leap.

And it always pans out. I have seen zero squirrels crash, plummet, or stumble even a little. And I’ll admit, I’d kind of like to see a little struggle. As in, I’m watching for it. Not in an evil “I hope you die” way, but just to see what happens, how they’d react and what would happen after they hit the ground. Nothing? Pause and reflection? Confusion? Or do they just catch another branch and give it not a moment’s thought?

Consider the confidence they have in their abilities. When they leap, they are free of doubt. They are committed and will reach the next tree, limb to swing them onto the next spot. They know what they are capable of and go for it – without hesitation. It reminds me of my mindset five, ten or 15 years ago, a place I plan to return to. Building back that unquestioning mindset and committed heart may come slow, but the helpful reminders from the rodents in the backyard just might be one of the branches I need to get there.

Shootin’ the Wit is a sporadic blog that should never, ever be taken too seriously.