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I haven’t yet jumped out of a plane.
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I haven’t jumped off a bridge with a piece of elastic attached to my legs.
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I haven’t come face-to-face with a beast that could tear my head off my shoulders.
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I haven’t exchanged my day job for freelance photography.
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I haven’t told any of my bosses to stuff it.
I did move halfway around the world. I did, however, have a nice fat corporation behind me to make it all VERY easy and safe.
I did give up a safe job that made use of my skills and would enable me to build upon them. I did give up a clear career path, but I was able to find another (maybe the same one) over here. That clear career path and comfortable job probably came with a white picket fence and 2.3 kids; maybe that’s risk taking.
People have called me a decisive risk taker. I don’t think I am.
When I was in Vietnam I met a guy that literally walked out on his day job and moved to Alaska. Maybe he was escaping something. Maybe he would have faced more risk by staying where he was, but the move still looks like a risk to me.
I guess that’s the answer. Risk is subjective. Your risk is not my risk.