no risk. no story.


a noun.  

a four-letter word; sometimes interchangeable with o-u-c-h (or f-u-c-where i’m going with this?).

risk, hints the Web(ster), is exposure to the chance of injury or loss. a hazard. a dangerous chance. uncertainty. the discomfort of learning what we thought we knew. 

see? ouch. 

practically speaking, the risk index of my daily to-do list [energy drink, workout, paint, chipotle, repeat] is relatively low. i choose a brush, turn on spotify, curate color, and wordsmith canvases.  

risk: low

however, as a creator and small business owner, risk is assumed and, to be frank, wildly uncomfortable. even after twenty years of “my name’s kent, and i’m an artist,” showing my work to followers and clients triggers my notably overreactive sweat glands.


nonetheless, this year, i dove into the deep end of exposure. i bet on myself. i took chances, which were, i believed, calculated and well-timed. part of my diverse success portfolio. risk = success, right?


insert error message here.


so far, i’ve seen big expenses. big anxiety. low returns. 


risk: high


does risk have an expiration date? or offer refunds? i don’t need a “happily ever after” as much as i’d like a “and they were able to keep ordering doordash.”

 here’s the thing: risk is a sucker punch of humility and will undoubtedly go head-to-head with the generic, milquetoast way of doing things. many of us aren’t ready to go against the plush, sherpa-lined comfort of what is familiar. however, regardless of its outcome, risk is our greatest act of hope. otherwise, why would we risk…well, risk?

here’s where you come in.

you have a story about the time(s) you rallied during twenty seconds of frenzied courage. the time you harnessed your dedication and self-belief and made the leap unprotected and unprepared. the final dollar. the final day. giving it all in hopes that its return would catapult you out of comfort’s clutch. you have a story about risk’s byproducts: about failure, about trying again. you have a story about the empathy acquired and unexpected compassion.

you have a story about that moment right before you didn’t give up.


stories connect us. risk connects us. 

no risk. no story.

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