I don't wanna.

The summer between graduating from high school and my freshman year of college, I was a life guard. That probably wasn't the best idea considering my utter lack of agility when submerged in water. But it paid well and two of my best friends from high school would be working with me. So swimmers beware - I did it.

I learned a lot that summer. Like how important you feel with a whistle around your neck, what a Baby Ruth bar looks like floating in the water, and how many mothers consider a pool staffed with lifeguards to be "daycare."

But one thing I learned that I didn't realize until now is the power of nudging an idea. How did I learn this? Well, that's a great question, your name here.

There was a group of kids from the CDC (Child Development Center) that would come twice a week to the pool where I was stationed. They came for swimming lessons. So we'd toss them around in the water for about 30 minutes or so. And at the end of the "lesson" we'd have them jump off the diving board into the deep end.

While it might sound a bit dangerous to have kids who are just learning to swim hurling themselves into 12 feet of water, fear not. As my fellow co-worker guided the little tykes to the edge of the board, I was floating in the water, arms sprawled, waiting to catch those who dare jump.

There was this one kid that stood out. I can't remember his name now. But he always had these black swim-shoes on with giant dinosaurs on them. Hideous.

Anyway, he was up to bat. And as he approached the end of the board, his eyes got huge as he uttered profusely under his breath "I don't wanna, I don't wanna, I don't wanna..." Meanwhile, my co-worker and I both knew that this same kid, the very one before us with fear in his eyes, had made the same jump just one week prior.

He'd get to the end and we'd do our best to comfort his unwarranted fear, reminding him he did fine last time. This was to no avail. So, being the smartest lifeguards in the history of lifeguardership, we pushed him in every week. After the first jump of the day, we couldn't keep him off the board. He'd keep coming back for more.

It made me wonder what I do when I get to the edge of the board, ideas in hand, and there's nothing but a deep pool of potential humiliation before me? A pit of hack-failure and possible rejection?

I do exactly as the dinosaur-swim-shoe-wearing-kid did. I say "I don't wanna, I don't wanna, I don't wanna" and won't jump. Until someone older than me, someone with more experience than me, someone who saw me make the jump just last week, gives me a nudge and pushes me and my idea over the edge.

That's all it takes. Just one nudge from someone. A nudge that makes sense and I could have thought of. But didn't.

So I look to the dinosaur-swim-shoe-wearing-kid for inspiration. I know I jumped just last week and did fine. I know all it takes is a little nudge. And now I have to be the one to jump. To nudge myself. To dive without regard to consequence.

The only catch is, I don't have anyone waiting at the bottom to catch me when it turns out I can't swim.