I have this thing when I go to restaurants, an affliction called Ordering Regret. It seems that it’s only when the waiter’s walked away that I realise what I really want.

I often have to run after him, asking to change my order. Usually, no problem, but occasionally the food is already on its way.

That’s when my son likes to smugly remind me what he gets told when being picky: “You get what you get, and you don’t get upset!”

Writer’s Regret, however, is worse. There are times I’ve submitted a piece, or even sent off an e-mail, only to wish I could claw it back for some last-minute editing.

Too often it’s too late. There’s no catching up with the waiter when the newspaper’s gone to print.

Last week was one of those occasions. Monday night I’m in sudden panic that I’d said too much … or not enough, in my column last week.

That I had overly exposed myself, sharing those darkest fears about not being ‘good enough’. The thought of readers’ scorn and judgment made me feel a bit sick. There was nothing I could do.

Then early Tuesday, someone said it. “I liked your column today ... it’s the first one I’ve actually read all the way to the end!”

Other feedback floated in, people saying they recognised their own story in it, pleased to read about a shared experience. Perhaps putting myself out on that limb wasn’t so regretful?

Vulnerability: I’m always banging on about how important it is for good communication etc, one would think I’d have known better. But allowing ourselves to be vulnerable takes trust and faith — in both ourselves and others. And to have these requires courage.

As the old saying goes, “Courage is not the absence of fear, it is the ability to act in the presence of fear.”

I am getting bolder as I age. I used to be terribly concerned about what people thought of me. Clearly I still am, to some extent, but more and more I find myself seizing an opportunity to be brave.

There’s a momentum to bravery I find, and sometimes we just need to allow ourselves into its path and we off. It’s like bungee jumping.

Fifteen years ago I agreed to bungee jump off a 150’ crane over a concrete parking lot in Mexico. Why? Still not sure. That’s a long way down, looking from the top.

The man told me to hold the railing behind and lean out from the ledge. He’d count to three and then I should let go and fall forward. Easy enough.

I leaned, I looked, he counted, nothing happened. “Ok, we’ll try it again.” I leaned, he counted, got to three ... nothing. This wasn’t a conscious choice.

I looked at my hands holding that rail, knuckles white from my iron grip. I may have been thinking ‘jump’ but my hands were having none of it.

“Listen, lady, there are people waiting. (which was a lie) If you don’t go this time, you’ll have to take the stairs. One, two, three.”

Nope, it’s like they were glued to the bar ... four ... fi ... then I thought, ‘trust the rope, have a little faith (nobody’s died on this thing — yet)’. And I relaxed. My fingers loosened and that’s all it took.

It wasn’t a leap, or a courageous throwing myself into the unknown, just a simple allowing. And I was falling. Nothing I could do to go back now, I was in it and what would be, would be.

Sometimes we just need to start. I recently had the privilege of being asked to attend a creative brainstorming session for a really exciting fledgling project aimed at personal and social well-being.

I found myself among an inspiring group of practitioners, many of whom I greatly admire. A question was posed and we were asked to share our thoughts.

There was a long pause, one could hear the mental cogs turning as participants pondered, but who dared to be the first to speak?

Someone had to. A verging-on-awkward moment later, I took the floor. My comment wasn’t eloquent, or even fully formed, but it was something. Enough at least to break the ice and after that the discussion poured forth.

At the end of the meeting, someone thanked me. A small thing, albeit a bit scary and intimidating, until I did it.

Those whose courage I really admire are the two women whose ideas have been the genesis for this extraordinary project.

They have been bold enough to share their dreams and offer up their personal vision for others to consider, evaluate and judge.

This is the test of all creative thinkers, artists and leaders of change: to be vulnerable for a higher purpose.

Author Ambrose Redmoon’s take on that old saying speaks to this: “Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear.”

When something is more important that fear, let’s find our courage and just start. Someone has to. “Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now,” says Goethe, at the end of my favourite of his quotes.

Can we practice courage? I think so. I see it like a muscle. We can start small and build it. It can be doing or saying that thing that we want to, but perhaps feels a bit uncomfortable about.

Stepping up and being the first to say ‘sorry’ or ‘I love you’ or ‘it’s over’ or even just “the trash can is right there, mate” to the guy who dropped his litter right in front of us and our children.

(I was very proud of my friend for having that courage and being that role model.) They’re all small steps, expanding that comfort zone. Soon we too will be sharing our vision.

For me, doing improvised theatre has been a big contributor to my bold-ability: getting up and entering the unknown every time I open my mouth.

Trusting my partners, that we’ll support each other, trusting myself that I’ll come up with something, and trusting that the audience will share in the positive spirit of what we are aiming to create.

It’s scary, sometimes it falls apart, often it’s hilarious and ultimately it’s exciting ... to offer it up and just see what happens. A perfect mirror for life.

I believe trying is better than not trying. Sometimes we can end up with chicken when really we wanted the fish but when it comes to what we ‘put out’ (rather than ‘take out’) perhaps we can fill that order with a smattering of courage, marinated in touch of vulnerability, served on a small, fresh start and Enjoy! Great for sharing ...

(Hilarity for Charity will be having its annual Improvised Comedy Cup Match on July 17th and 18th. Check Improv Bermuda on Facebook for more details.)

Julia Pitt is a trained Success Coach and certified NLP practitioner on the team at Benedict Associates. For further information contact Julia on (441) 705-7488, www.juliapittcoaching.com.Julia Pitt is a trained Success Coach and certified NLP practitioner on the team at Benedict Associates. For further information contact Julia on (441) 705-7488, www.juliapittcoaching.com.