Beyond here, there be dragons
What keeps you from exploring unknown territories?
by Paul Kearley
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I — I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference. —Robert Frost
When maps were made in the “old world,” the cartographers, upon reaching the edge of known seas or lands, often stopped. They feared what was uncharted. On those empty spaces they would write: “Beyond here there be dragons.” Instead of pressing forward to see what lay beyond the hill, the forest, or the horizon, they retreated, held back by the unknown.
I’ve felt like that before.
At 18, I needed a change from the routine of school, part-time work, and the monotony of small-town Newfoundland life. So, I went down to St. John’s and enrolled in the military. I had just finished Community College, earning my apprentice papers as a machinist, but I needed something different—desperately.
The recruiting process went smoothly. After all the tests, they told me I could choose any trade I wanted. “Well,” I thought, “I’ve just spent a year training as a machinist—let’s stick with that.” That was it! I could have left that very day, but I decided to wait, to let the reality of my decision sink in. The longer I waited, the more nervous I became, and the more excuses I invented. Over the next year, I dreaded the day I’d have to go. I dodged the recruiting officer’s calls with reasons that weren’t really reasons. The truth? I was terrified of what I had signed up for.
Finally, the day came: December 1978, just before Christmas. I was told to pack my bags—I’d be starting basic training January 4th. From the moment I got that call until the day I left, I don’t think I slept more than four straight hours. This was uncharted territory for me. Looking back now, I’m almost embarrassed by how afraid I was, because those seven years in the Air Force turned out to be some of the most valuable and memorable years of my life. I wasted a full year fretting about what might happen instead of discovering what could be.
Hindsight, of course, is crystal clear. If only I had known then what I know now, I’d have taken more chances sooner. The truth is, the only thing holding me back was me. I made excuses, blamed people, blamed circumstances—but when the dust settled, it was me standing in my shoes. That realization was sobering: my ability to face my fears was the only thing preventing me from moving forward.
I’ve since learned that what we focus on, we become. When facing uncharted territory—whether it’s a new career, a relationship, a business venture, or a major life decision—start by asking what good can come from the challenge. Then make a plan to see it through. Anyone can make a plan, but only those committed to growth follow it through to completion.
When you hesitate, ask yourself these four questions:
- What is the worst thing that can happen?
- Am I prepared to accept that?
- If I am prepared to accept it, how can I improve on it?
- What can I do right now to start?
Uncharted territory isn’t dangerous just because it’s unknown. Magellan and Columbus didn’t know what lay ahead, but they had faith, they had a plan, and they were willing to push forward. Neil Armstrong stepping onto the moon? That was the definition of unmapped territory.
You may not be an explorer or astronaut, but you have your own voyages. If you can look in the mirror each day and say, “I did my best. I faced my fears. I moved forward,” then you’ll be one of the people others call “lucky.” And the truth is, luck has a funny way of showing up when you have a plan—and you make it work.
Whatever dragons you face this week, keep your focus on the possibilities instead of the fears. You’ll discover uncharted abilities that can take you farther than you imagined.
