The F*ck It Line: Why Courage Is a Daily Practice (Not a Personality Trait)

My friend Phil and I have been working on our second book together.

If you haven't read the first one, you should. It's called AI for Parents and Teachers: How to Prepare Children for an AI Future and is a practical guide for parents and teachers on how to prepare children for an AI-driven world by developing their uniquely human skills—creativity, emotional intelligence, and critical thinking—whilst teaching them to use AI responsibly as a learning tool. We're proud of it.

But the new book is different. It's more direct, and focused on what we can do as parents to help raise resilient and well-rounded humans that thrive in an ever-changing world. And during one of our recent conversations, we landed on something that's been rattling around my head ever since.

We were talking about courage. Not the dramatic kind. Not battlefield courage or whistleblower courage or quit-your-job-and-start-a-company courage (although I'd be lying if I said that wasn't part of the discussion).

We were talking about the small, daily kind. The courage it takes to speak up in a meeting when you're not sure you're right. To send the email you've been avoiding. To have the conversation you've been putting off. To try something you might fail at, in front of people who might notice.

Phil called it the f*ck it line.

It's a metaphorical line that exists in every situation where you have a choice between comfort and growth. Between staying safe and stretching yourself. Between the version of you that plays it small and the version that might become something more.

And every day, you either cross it or you don't.

What the Line Actually Is

Picture any situation where you feel that familiar resistance. The tightening in your chest. The voice that says "maybe not today" or "I'm not ready" or "what will they think?"

That's the line.

It shows up constantly:

• You have an idea in a meeting but you're not 100% certain, so you stay quiet
• You want to reach out to someone you admire but you don't want to seem pushy
• You know you should give someone difficult feedback but you tell yourself "it's not the right time"
• You want to try something new but you're afraid of looking incompetent
• You have something to say but you're worried about how it will land

The line is always there. The question is whether you cross it.

Crossing it doesn't mean being reckless. It doesn't mean ignoring legitimate concerns or bulldozing through situations without thinking. It means recognising the difference between genuine obstacles and comfortable excuses.

Most of the time, when we don't cross the line, we're not being prudent. We're being afraid. And we dress up that fear in reasonable-sounding language so we don't have to admit it.

"I'll wait until I have more information." (I'm scared of being wrong.)

"The timing isn't right." (I'm scared of the reaction.)

"I need to think about it more." (I'm scared of committing.)

"It's not my place." (I'm scared of overstepping.)

The f*ck it line is the moment where you recognise what's happening and choose to act anyway. Where you say, internally or out loud: "F*ck it. I'm doing this."

Why It Matters More Than You Think

Here's what I've learnt about capability, both in myself and in the organisations I've worked with.

Capability isn't built in training rooms. It isn't built in workshops or courses or reading books. Those things can plant seeds. They can give you frameworks and language and ideas. But they don't build capability.

Capability is built in the moments where you do something you weren't sure you could do.

Every time you cross the f*ck it line, you expand what's possible for you. You prove to yourself that you can handle discomfort. That you can survive being wrong. That your worst-case scenarios rarely materialise, and when they do, you can deal with them.

Every time you don't cross it, you reinforce the opposite. You train yourself to believe that safety is more important than growth. That comfort is more important than capability. That the risk of failure outweighs the cost of stagnation.

This compounds over time.

People who regularly cross the line become more capable, more confident, more willing to take on bigger challenges. Their comfort zone expands. What used to feel scary becomes routine. They develop what looks like natural courage, but is actually practised courage.

People who rarely cross the line become more cautious, more risk-averse, more stuck. Their comfort zone shrinks. What used to feel manageable starts to feel scary. They develop what looks like natural caution, but is actually practised fear.

The gap between these two paths widens every day.

Making It a Daily Non-Negotiable

After that conversation with Phil, I added something to my daily non-negotiables.

Cross the f*ck it line at least once.

Every single day, I look for the line. Where is it today? What am I avoiding? What conversation am I putting off? What action am I telling myself I'm "not ready" for? What would the braver version of me do?

And then I cross it. At least once.

Some days it's small. Sending an email I've been procrastinating on. Sharing an idea I'm not sure about. Asking a question I'm afraid might sound stupid.

Some days it's bigger. Having a difficult conversation. Making a commitment I'm not 100% sure I can keep. Putting something out into the world before it feels ready.

The size doesn't matter as much as the consistency.

What matters is that every day, I practise being the person who crosses the line. Every day, I prove to myself that I'm not controlled by the fear. Every day, I expand what's possible.

What This Has to Do With Building Capability in Others

If you lead people, this matters even more.

Because capability in teams and organisations works the same way. It's built in the moments where people do things they weren't sure they could do. It's built when people take risks, try new approaches, speak up with ideas, and push past their comfort zones.

And as a leader, you control a lot of the conditions that determine whether people cross the line or stay safe.

Do people feel safe enough to try things that might not work?

If failure is punished, people won't cross the line. They'll stay safe. They'll do what's expected. They'll optimise for not getting in trouble rather than for growth and innovation.

Do people feel supported when they stretch beyond their current capability?

If people are thrown into the deep end without support, they'll learn to avoid the deep end. If they're given challenges with appropriate scaffolding and backup, they'll learn to embrace challenges.

Do you model crossing the line yourself?

If you always play it safe, your team will too. If you share your own moments of uncertainty, your own decisions to act despite fear, your own f*ck it moments, you give permission for others to do the same.

Do you celebrate courage, even when the outcome isn't perfect?

If you only celebrate successes, people will avoid anything that might fail. If you celebrate the courage to try, regardless of outcome, people will take more swings.

Building capability in others isn't about training programmes and competency frameworks. It's about creating the conditions where people regularly cross their own f*ck it lines. Where stretching is normal. Where courage is practised.

The Opposite of Courage Isn't Fear

Here's something that took me a long time to understand.

The opposite of courage isn't fear. Everyone feels fear. The people who seem fearless aren't actually fearless. They've just practised acting despite the fear so many times that it no longer stops them.

The opposite of courage is comfort.

Comfort is what keeps you on the safe side of the line. Comfort whispers that everything is fine, that you don't need to push, that staying where you are is good enough.

Comfort is seductive because it doesn't feel like a choice. It feels like the absence of a choice. You're not deciding to stay small. You're just... not doing anything different.

But that is a choice. Every day you don't cross the line, you're choosing comfort over growth. You're choosing the current version of yourself over the version that could be.

And that choice compounds.

The most dangerous thing about comfort is that it feels safe whilst slowly making your world smaller. The things you're comfortable with become the boundaries of your life. And those boundaries contract over time if you don't push against them.

A Challenge

I don't know what your f*ck it line looks like today.

Maybe it's a conversation you've been avoiding. Maybe it's an idea you've been sitting on. Maybe it's a project you've been telling yourself you're not ready for. Maybe it's just raising your hand when you'd normally stay quiet.

Whatever it is, you know what it is. You can feel it.

Here's my challenge: cross it. Today.

Not tomorrow. Not when you're ready. Not when the timing is better. Today.

Say f*ck it, and do the thing.

See what happens. Probably not much. The worst case scenario probably won't materialise. And even if it does, you'll handle it.

But something will shift. Something small but important. You'll have proven to yourself that you're the kind of person who crosses the line. That the fear doesn't control you. That growth matters more than comfort.

And tomorrow, do it again.

The Compound Effect

Phil and I talk about this a lot in the context of organisations. How capability compounds. How small daily practices add up to transformational change over time.

But it starts with individuals. It starts with you.

Every time you cross the f*ck it line, you become slightly more capable. Slightly more confident. Slightly more willing to take on the next challenge.

Do that every day for a month, and you'll notice a difference.

Do it every day for a year, and other people will notice.

Do it every day for a decade, and you'll be unrecognisable from the person who started.

This is how capability is actually built. Not in workshops. Not in training programmes. Not in books (even the good ones).

It's built in the daily practice of choosing growth over comfort. Of crossing the line when you'd rather stay safe. Of saying f*ck it and doing the thing anyway.

That's the practice.

That's the path.

Now go cross your line.

And if you want to build AI capability specifically, whether for yourself, your team, or your career transition, that's what the AI Capability Intensive is for. It's four weeks of crossing the f*ck it line together, building real skills, and proving to yourself that you can do things you weren't sure you could do. The founding cohort launches in April 2026.