Beyond the Wall

Did you know Edinburgh used to be surrounded by a wall?

Back in medieval times, the city's eastern gate was called the Netherbow Port. Inside it, you were safe. Outside it, you were on your own. And the story goes that once you left, it cost money to get back in.

For many poor families, that fee was out of reach. So, they simply never went.

The little stretch of ground just inside that gate earned a name: The World's End.

I can't stop thinking about that. An entire world lay at their feet, and they called the edge of their walls the end of it.

To be fair, they had their reasons. The 17th century was not kind to Europe. Plague, war, hunger, worker shortages. Staying inside the walls was about survival. I'm not here to judge them.

But it left me with a question I can't shake:

How many invisible walls are still standing long after the physical ones came down?

When I read about those families, I didn't just find it interesting. I recognized it.

I grew up poor. And poor has a way of building walls around what you think is possible for you. College could have been one of those things that was for other people. I had every excuse to stay put. I went anyway.

When I first joined council, I was the only woman at the table. That's a wall too. It whispers that maybe you don't belong, or you should wait your turn, let someone else speak first, keep your voice small so you don't stand out more than you already do. I could have stayed quiet. I didn't.

Then I lost my re-election. Failure is one of the sneakiest wall builders there is, because it hands you a really good reason to play it safe. You tried. It didn't work. Don't put yourself out there like that again. If I'm being honest, that loss caused me to shrink back. Sometimes it still does. But I'm pushing past it.

I don't have it all figured out. I still bump into walls. Some I see coming. Some I don't notice until I've turned around at the same spot for the third time.

But every time I've stepped past one, the world got bigger, not smaller.

Those families weren't stuck because the gate was locked. They were stuck because leaving had a cost.

Our walls work the same way. Stepping past them might cost you comfort, reputation, or the risk of failing in front of people who watched you fail the first time. So, we do the math, decide the toll is too high, and settle in at The World's End.

But we rarely count the cost of staying. The conversations you never had. The opportunity you talked yourself out of. The version of you, your team, or your organization that never got to exist.

That's the toll nobody puts on the sign.

Mike Foster says, "Your nervous system will always choose a familiar hell rather than an unfamiliar heaven." He also says, "What we fail to investigate will perpetuate."

So, this week, investigate. Ask yourself:

How do I "small" myself?
What story am I telling myself about why I can't?
What's one step past the gate?

I'm still finding my walls. But I'd rather keep finding them than spend my life calling the edge of my comfort the end of the world.

So, where's your World's End?

Stepping past it might cost more than you'd like.

But it will cost you less than staying.