As chance would have it, our family has lived an hour from both Disneyland and Disney World. In the early years we went with a few small children, back when they had books of colored tickets. The merry go round used an A. The Matterhorn took an E. The bigger the investment of danger the pricier the cost. By the time we moved to California the system was an entry fee that got you into the park. But that did not insure you a chance on Space Mountain. You had to wait in line. Then they introduced a fast pass, so you could enjoy other rides instead of wasting hours inching toward a turn style.  

 

Another place we took the kids to was a water park, which was glorious on a Floridian summer day. John shepherded the children, since I am a wimp when it comes to adventure. One time he niggled me to try the big tube floating down a waterfall, and everyone stood at the base to see my happy face and announce "We told you you would love it!" But instead I climbed off near the beginning, fear having taken hold, and walked with my tube down the hill. I tapped them on the shoulders. John never tried again to shove me into being brave. 

 

I listened to a podcast by Brene Brown called Day 2. She describes the pattern of conferences and stories in which the first day is shiny with fresh hope, and the third day captures the final push toward success. But that annoying second day is often messy, and just plain hard. When Brene presented to the employees of Pixar, they resonated with the idea. Creating a movie starts off with crafting the characters, and building a potential conflict. The end affords a chance for the heroes to rise to their best selves, usually through vulnerability. But the second part entails grinding gears, trying to get from a sunny start to a triumphant finale. It's awful. 

 

For awhile Brene tried to figure out how to avoid Day 2 completely. She researched storytelling, from Joseph Campbell to the myths. But there is no fast pass that can help us skip over the turmoil. The grist of the conflict is where courage is born. Because if you skip going down the rapids you never find out that you can do it. 

 

Which is a nice thing to discover.