Wild Soul HOPE

 (Sunday Funday And Other Ridiculous Childhood Adventures)

They tied the blindfold around my head so snug I couldn’t see even a sliver of light.

I could hear them whispering, giggling, shuffling around me.

“Just trust us,” someone said.

The words are rarely comforting when followed by the sound of stomping feet and… braying?

I took a hesitant step forward. Something soft brushed across the top of my feet as they squished through something that was — wet, limp, and strangely slippery. My brain made the leap instantly: worms. My stomach flipped and I lurched with a dry heave. I was encouraged to move forward. I did so with great trepidation.

The donkey noises grew louder, more chaotic, surrounding me. Somewhere to my left, someone clapped. To my right, a voice I knew was trying too hard not to laugh.

“Now, hold out your finger,” a voice said.

I froze. My hand trembled in the air. Every nerve ending screamed, Don’t do it. My mind, working faster than reason, painted horrible possibilities: a bucket of sludge, an actual animal, something alive.

Then I felt it — warm, thick, sticky. It squished between my fingers and clung there. I screamed so loud, I think I scared myself. 

The laughter exploded. The stomping stopped. I got big hugs and pats on the back as someone whipped off my blindfold and light flooded in.

As realization set in, I began to laugh with great relief. In front of me was a pot of macaroni noodles — my “worms.” Clever really because I wasn’t sure if i was walking in worms or a manure pile. More relief and a bug sigh followed when on a table sat, a blue kitchen sponge dripping with peanut butter — my “poo.” I’d never been so relieved in all my life!!

The donkey noises? Just my fellow square dancers, putting on a show. But boy was it realistic. I’d been around enough barnyards. I truly thought I was in a pig pen touching a donkey’s unmentionables. 

In the end of all my anxious activity – I was now a proud, slightly humiliated member of the Donkey Club – a big square dancing club. Hopefully, I’m not giving away thier treasured secrets. 

The greatest most treasured lesson:

In those few blindfolded minutes, I realized something I’d spend years proving true again and again:

The scariest part of life isn’t usually what’s happening — it’s what we think might be happening — those little stories we tell ourselves about what might be happening. The noise around you, the voices in your head, the way your imagination fills in the blanks… that’s what makes things terrifying.

The mind is a powerful storyteller, and it’s often far more dramatic (and terrifying) than reality. Surrounded by noise and uncertainty, we fill in the blanks with worst-case scenarios.

But when we stay grounded — when we breathe, surrender, and move forward — we often discover the thing we feared wasn’t so bad at all – you just might find that what you were dreading is actually harmless — even funny.

And sometimes, like me, you end up laughing with peanut butter on your hand and a new story to tell for the rest of your life.

That day, I walked away with peanut butter on my finger, a new membership in the Donkey Club, and a reminder that most of the fear was only in my head. And sometimes, the only thing left to do… is laugh at yourself.

When the Soul Remembers HOPE available at a discount rate right now: https://books.by/wild-soul-hope and Amazon and Kindle

See you again tomorrow. I’ll be sending you fun stories about the Stoic period – It will take a couple of days to really do it justice. These little blurbs are never enough to cover all of the material but it’s fun to research and talk about. Especially, how it might relate to the HOPE Method. A tool to help us remember who we are and not be stuck in our wounded darkness.