The Official site of TJ Wright

“Standing before the council of master wizards, my hands trembling as I prepared to demonstrate my magic – this memory still makes my heart race. But it wasn’t actually a fantasy novel scene. This was me, submitting my first manuscript to publishers. Same sweaty palms, same racing heart, same feeling of standing naked before judgment.

We all have these moments. Whether it’s trying out for the varsity team, submitting your artwork to a gallery, or hitting ‘send’ on that job application to your dream company. These opportunities pull us out of our comfort zone like a tide dragging us into deeper waters. Sometimes they feel like a step backward (‘What if I’m not ready?’) and a step forward (‘But what if I am?’) all at once.”

We humans are creatures of comfort. It’s not just a preference – it’s woven into our DNA, this need to feel safe and secure. Think about your favorite sweater, the one that’s maybe a little worn at the elbows but fits just right. Or that familiar routine you’ve perfected over years. These comforts become like a second skin, protecting us from life’s harsh winds.

But sometimes, life presents us with choices that force us to shed that protective layer. I remember facing such a decision: a job opportunity that promised a better title and more prestige, but lower pay and required moving away from my team, and starting fresh in an unfamiliar environment. On paper, some aspects looked better – the company name, the potential for growth. Yet other elements felt like steps backward – lower salary, new relationships to build, proven expertise suddenly questioned.

When you do reach that mountain top, though – that moment when your risk pays off – it’s not just about personal victory. Something magical happens: you find yourself equipped with the confidence and experience to guide others. Your story becomes a beacon for those still standing at the base of their own mountains, wondering if they should attempt the climb. Your triumph transforms into a tool for lifting others up.

But life has a way of humbling us. Sometimes, that carefully calculated risk doesn’t pay off. The new position gets eliminated in a corporate restructure. The promising opportunity reveals itself to be fool’s gold. That’s when it hits you – that sickening free fall feeling. Your stomach lurches into your throat, your mind races with ‘what-ifs,’ and you feel like you’re simultaneously drowning and gasping for air. Every certainty you had evaporates like morning mist.

Yet here’s the truth about falling through those clouds of uncertainty: they’re not solid. They’re not the end. Breaking through that barrier of fear and failure feels like pushing through a wall of resistance, but once you’re through, you discover something profound – resilience you never knew you had. The ground beneath might not be where you expected to land, but it’s solid enough to stand on, to catch your breath, and to begin again.

Breaking through those clouds of uncertainty isn’t just about personal survival – it’s about becoming a bridge builder. Just like in the ancient stories where master craftsmen would construct magnificent spans across seemingly impossible chasms, we too can build bridges from our experiences.

Think about those moments when you’ve stood at the edge of your own abyss. Maybe it was submitting that first manuscript, taking that risky career move, or stepping into an unfamiliar role. The void below seemed endless, the other side impossibly far. But here’s the beautiful thing about being a bridge builder: every failure, every setback, every moment of doubt becomes a stone in your foundation.

I remember standing at my own chasm’s edge. The comfortable job I knew so well on one side, and on the other, an opportunity that promised growth but required stepping into unknown territory. The title was better, the salary was actually lower, and everything familiar would be left behind. It was like trying to build a bridge while standing on it – terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

Some of those stones we lay don’t hold. They crumble, they shift, they fall into the depths below. But each attempt, each failure, each lesson learned becomes part of a stronger foundation. And here’s the most magical part: once you’ve built your bridge, others can cross it too.

That’s why I share these stories. That’s why we must be brave enough to talk about our falls as well as our triumphs. Because somewhere out there, someone else is standing at their own chasm’s edge, wondering if they should take that first step. Your bridge, built from experience and fortified by resilience, might just be the path they need to see to find their courage.

So yes, be a bridge builder. Let your failures be the stones that others can step on. Let your triumphs be the handrails that guide them. And remember, every great bridge started with a single stone laid in faith.

Just like those ancient stories where heroes emerge from dark forests into sunlit clearings, we too must trust in the journey beyond our clouds. Think about it – every sunset you’ve ever witnessed was actually the sun rising somewhere else. Every ending creates space for a new beginning.

Remember that comfortable coat we talked about? Sometimes letting it go isn’t just about facing the cold – it’s about discovering wings you never knew you had. Those moments of free fall? They’re really just your first attempts at flight.

I’ve learned that the most beautiful bridges aren’t built over calm waters, but over the deepest chasms. They’re constructed from the stones of our failures, the steel of our resilience, and the mortar of our hopes. Each step backward becomes a foundation for someone else’s journey forward.

So here’s my challenge to you: Take that risk. Step into that unknown. Yes, you might fall through some clouds, but I promise you – there’s always something beyond them. Maybe it’s not the mountain top you expected, but it might be the valley where your real story begins.

Because in the end, it’s not about avoiding the fall – it’s about learning to soar through it. And somewhere out there, someone else is standing at their own precipice, watching to see if you’ll spread your wings.

After all, the most beautiful sunsets aren’t the ones we watch alone – they’re the ones we share with others who are brave enough to join us on the journey.