When I first moved here five months ago, I remember my very first motorbike ride home.
I was terrified.
For context, it’s about 700 meters of unpaved road filled with rolling stones, uneven slopes, loose gravel, unexpected dips. The area where I live is a quiet hidden gem, but the cost of that peace is that the roads are still unfinished.
And at night, it felt even scarier.
I remember gripping my handlebars so tightly, wondering:
How am I going to survive this every day?
I had pre-booked this place for three months, and honestly, I was already stressing over my exit plan.
I kept nagging my landlord about the road situation, only to realize when he said “27,” he wasn’t referring to the 27th day.
He meant… 2027.
That’s when I realized:
the road was not changing anytime soon.
So perhaps… I had to.
At first, I avoided night drives whenever I could.
I made my friends come to me instead. And what struck me most was this:
my girlfriends loved me enough to brave those rocky roads just to spend time together.
At some point, I was balancing Luna on the bike while friends cautiously drove home after late-night High School Musical karaoke sessions.
And slowly, I started thinking:
If my girls can do it… maybe I can too.
And because Luna depends on me,
I knew I had to become braver.
Over time, something shifted.
I began learning the path of least resistance through the rocky roads.
Where the smoother turns were.
Which stones to avoid.
How to navigate the slopes without panicking.
And eventually…
what once felt terrifying became muscle memory.
I stopped seeing the road as a barrier.
Until potential tenants came over one day, and I watched them react in shock:
“Wow… the road is really rough.”
And I realized:
I had forgotten.
Not because the road changed —
but because I did.
I guess that’s the thing about fear.
As I recently shared in a podcast conversation, we conquer fear by doing.
Again and again and again.
Until what once felt impossible slowly becomes familiar.
What once felt like giant boulders in our path becomes part of the route we quietly know how to navigate.
Still bumpy.
Still imperfect.
But no longer impossible.
(If you’d like to listen to the full conversation, you can watch it here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oAps779KrII )
Today, I realized my bike battery had dropped to 18%, even though I hadn’t used it for over a week.
So I decided to walk to my dinner date instead.
And as I walked those rocky roads with only my iPhone flashlight guiding me, I realized something:
I had never actually walked them before.
I had only rushed through them.
And suddenly, in the stillness, I saw them differently.
The shadows blend into the starlit sky.
The silence.
The glow of my home was tucked quietly in the distance.
And for the first time, I felt deep gratitude for these rocky roads.
Because maybe they were never there to punish me.
Maybe they were there to protect this space.
To filter who truly arrives here.
It’s not for everyone.
But the ones who get it…
will get it.
And they will love it deeply.
So the next time life gives you rocky roads, remember this:
Somewhere, someone has mastered this path before you.
And even if you cannot yet see the footprints —
perhaps one day,
you will leave your own.
#SupersoulSunday Challenge: Build the Muscle.
Think of one thing in your life right now that feels uncomfortable, difficult, or scary.
Instead of avoiding it, take one small step toward it this week.
Not to conquer it overnight.
Just to become a little more familiar with it.
Because courage is rarely built in one grand moment.
It is built quietly —
through repetition,
through practice,
through returning again and again.
Until one day, you look back and realize:
What once terrified you
has simply become part of your path.
✨ If this piece resonated, forward it to someone navigating their own rocky roads right now.
Or write to me at [email protected] — let’s keep turning words into soulcuddles.
Week 21/52 | SupersoulSunday | Written from House of Conscious Tomorrows, Seseh, Bali, Indonesia | All original, all rights reserved.