Dad’s answers activated a critically important reward system in my brain, ensuring I’d be a knowledge hunter-gatherer for life. Like pulling the handle on a slot machine and hearing coins tumble, when I asked a question I got an answer. That felt good so I asked another question. Dad innoculated me with curiosity.
This week I did two big things: took a handgun course on Tuesday and quit my job on Thursday. My goal in doing both was to take a leap, do something that intimidated me. Learning to shoot a handgun isn’t all that scary afterall.
Sitting in the big leather chairs on the floor of the House of Representatives, my Ag Leadership classmates and I were invited to ask questions
I’ve begun to do the work necessary to disentangle myself from my Home. It may take some time, but the first step has been discarding a few things that have possessed me, things that have held my attention and emotions: Dad’s red leather chair, my Grandmother’s secretary, photos, an oak rocking chair.
Why do I choose sticks over carrots? Why am I compelled by the fear of consequences instead of rewards? Surely there’s more.
“…Baby, you come knocking on my front doorSame old line you used to use before. [It’s just a game] well, what am I supposed to do? I didn’t know what I was getting into…” Stevie Nicks
