Believe You Can

 Every morning at 6:00, Daniel stood at the bottom of the hill.

The hill wasn't particularly famous. It wasn't the tallest mountain in the world, and nobody had written books about it. But to Daniel, it might as well have been Everest.

At the top stood an old wooden bench overlooking the town.

For years, Daniel had told himself he would climb it.

Tomorrow.

Next week.

When he was stronger.

When he had more confidence.

When life became easier.

There was always a reason to wait.

One cold morning, Daniel arrived at the bottom of the hill again.

He looked up.

"I can't do it," he whispered.

An old woman sitting nearby heard him.

She smiled.

"You've already decided?"

"Decided what?"

"That you can't."

Daniel laughed bitterly.

"Look at me. I'm not exactly someone who climbs mountains."

The woman looked toward the top of the hill.

"Neither is the hill someone who decides whether you can climb it."

Daniel didn't understand.

She continued.

"You keep looking at the top and asking yourself, 'Can I make it?' That's the wrong question."

"What should I ask?"

She pointed at the first few steps.

"Can you take one step?"

Daniel looked down.

"Yes."

"Then take it."

So, he did.

One step.

Then another.

After twenty steps, his legs began to hurt.

He stopped.

"I knew it," he said. "I'm not capable of this."

The woman, who had followed behind him, shook her head.

"You're confusing difficulty with impossibility."

Daniel said nothing.

"Something can be difficult," she continued, "and still be possible."

So, Daniel took another step.

And another.

Halfway up the hill, he wanted to turn around.

Nobody would blame him.

Nobody was waiting at the top.

Nobody had promised him a reward.

He could simply go home.

Then he remembered something the woman had said:

"Believe you can before you have proof that you can."

Daniel kept walking.

The sun began to rise.

His breathing became heavy.

His legs trembled.

But eventually, something strange happened.

He stopped thinking about the top.

He stopped thinking about failure.

He stopped asking whether he was strong enough.

He simply took the next step.

And then the next.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Daniel reached the bench.

He sat down.

Below him was the entire town.

The streets looked smaller.

The houses looked smaller.

Even the problems that had seemed enormous that morning seemed different from up there.

The old woman arrived a few minutes later.

Daniel smiled.

"I made it."

She sat beside him.

"No," she said.

Daniel looked confused.

"You did something more important than making it."

"What?"

"You proved to yourself that the voice saying, 'I can't' doesn't always tell the truth."

Daniel looked toward the horizon.

For the first time in years, he wondered what else he had called impossible simply because he had been afraid to begin.

The hill hadn't changed.

He had.

And that was the lesson.

You don't always need confidence to begin.

Sometimes you begin without confidence.

You take one step while you're afraid.

Then another while you're uncertain.

Then another while nobody believes in you.

And somewhere along the way, you discover that courage wasn't the feeling you were waiting for.

Courage was taking the next step anyway.

So, if there is something in your life that feels too big, too late, too difficult, or too far away, don't ask yourself:

"Can I reach the top?"

Ask:

"Can I take one step?"

If the answer is yes, take it.

Then take another.

You don't need to see the entire road.

You don't need everyone to believe in you.

You don't even need to feel ready.

Sometimes the first person who has to believe in you...

is you.

Believe you can.

And then begin.