The Art of Grit

(5 Minutes)

Marcel Proust had this idea that a little folly is necessary to truly experience life. Not recklessness, not throwing all caution to the wind—but just enough of a step outside the usual, the expected, the safe, to remind us we’re alive.

I think about this often—how easy it is to settle into routine, to move through the world in a way that’s practical and predictable. We tend to follow familiar patterns, choosing what we know, what feels comfortable. And yet, when we look back at the moments that made life feel full, they’re often the ones where we broke away from that script, even just a little.

I don’t mean grand, life-altering risks, though those have their place. I’m talking about the small ones. Ordering the most unusual thing on the menu just to see if you like it. Singing loudly in the car with the windows down. Saying yes to something before overanalyzing whether you’re “ready.” Making a fool of yourself in front of your kids just to hear them laugh.

There’s something freeing about these little acts of stepping outside ourselves. They loosen the grip of routine, break up the script we follow without thinking. Maybe they even remind us of who we were before we became so concerned with getting things right.

The Fear of Looking Foolish

For most of us, the real hesitation in stepping outside our comfort zone isn’t about actual risk—it’s about perception. We don’t want to look foolish. We don’t want to be seen stumbling, failing, or acting outside what’s considered “normal” for someone at our stage in life.

But think about the people you love being around the most. Aren’t they often the ones who allow themselves a little silliness? Who don’t take themselves too seriously? The ones who laugh freely, who try things even if they’re bad at them, who don’t mind looking ridiculous if it means having fun?

Somewhere along the way, many of us develop this invisible rulebook for how we’re supposed to behave. We start filtering out impulses that don’t fit the image we think we need to maintain. But what if some of those impulses—the ones to be a little spontaneous, a little unpredictable—are actually what keep us connected to joy?

I wonder how many experiences we miss out on simply because we don’t want to look foolish.

The Beauty of Small Risks

Taking risks doesn’t always have to mean betting everything on a big, uncertain outcome. Sometimes, it’s about making space for small, seemingly insignificant acts of courage that, over time, shift something inside us.

The other day, I stood in front of a display of ice cream flavors. My usual order was right there, the one I always get. But there was also something new—a bizarre combination I wouldn’t normally consider. And in that moment, I had this thought: Why not?

It was a simple decision, but one that reminded me how often I reach for what’s familiar instead of what’s intriguing. It’s a tiny example, but how many other parts of life work the same way? How often do we choose what’s predictable instead of what sparks a little curiosity, a little excitement?

The risks worth taking don’t always have to be life-changing. Some of them are just about breaking out of the patterns that keep life feeling smaller than it has to be.

What Are You Holding Back?

And then, of course, there are the slightly bigger little risks. The ones that might actually change something.

• Opening that business you keep thinking about.

• Sending the message you’ve been too nervous to send.

• Traveling somewhere alone just to see how it feels.

• Trying something new, not because you’re sure it will work out, but because some part of you just wants to know.

It’s easy to tell ourselves we’ll do it later. That there will be a better time. But time has a way of slipping past while we wait for certainty. And certainty is a moving target—one that rarely arrives the way we expect.

So maybe the real question isn’t, Is this risky? but rather, What am I actually afraid of?

And what if, just once, you did the thing anyway?

An Invitation to a Little Folly

I’m not suggesting throwing caution to the wind or making reckless decisions just for the sake of it. But I do wonder: What would happen if we all allowed ourselves just a little more room for spontaneity? For play? For stepping outside our own expectations, just enough to make life feel a little more expansive?

A little folly never hurt anyone. And maybe, just maybe, it’s exactly what we need.

So tell me—what’s a little folly you’ve been holding back?