This morning, my family and I began a three-week road trip across the country in an RV.

What could have been a three- or four-day relocation from Wilmington, North Carolina, to Bozeman, Montana, we decided to turn into an adventure.

Why not?

We made the decision to move, and within a week our home was sold and plans were underway. Because of how quickly we move, and what looks to others like certainty in the middle of uncertainty, we have heard over and over again in the last month how inspiring our life looks from the outside.

People tell us we are risk-takers.
That the way we trust is inspiring.
That they could never do something like this.

And that last part is the part that always gets me.

Because Anniston and I both understand a simple truth about life:

Everything you want is going to require something you have never done before.

If you only ever do what is familiar, you will only ever recreate the past. You may get better at it. You may become more efficient. But you will not experience anything truly new.

And that means your life stays the same.

Early in our marriage, we made a decision to live fully. To be bold. To do things that stretched us. To say yes to the scary things. To trust that the life we wanted would only be found on the other side of action.

That has become one of the core ways we live.

Not because we are reckless.
Not because we do not feel fear.
But because we know our dreams are not going to be built by repeating the familiar.

So we move.

We take the leap.
We make the call.
We say yes before every detail is neatly packaged.

The reason so many people stay stuck is not because they are incapable of more. It is because the brain is deeply attached to what it knows. Familiarity feels safe. Even when what is familiar is uncomfortable, disappointing, or deeply limiting, the brain still prefers it because it can predict it.

And predictable feels safe.

But safety has a cost when it keeps you from the life you were meant to live.

I have big goals. Big dreams. And I am deeply committed to achieving them. So I ask myself often, what do I want to experience next? What do I want to create next? Then I begin taking action in that direction.

When something scares me, I do it anyway.

Because for me, the fear of staying the same is far greater than the fear of the unknown.

I have also become comfortable with perceived failure. Most mistakes can be corrected with another decision, another action, another course correction. Almost everything carries a lesson. Even the costly mistakes. Sometimes especially the costly ones.

So when I really look at it, it is a win either way.

I either get the result I wanted, or I get the lesson I needed.

Both move me forward.

So let me ask you this today:

What have you been dreaming about while quietly avoiding the action required to make it real?

And what would happen if today was the day you stopped waiting for the comfort to come first?