Why your brain does not want you to do new things at work

A camel on the beach at Sidi Kaouki, Morocco. His owner said he was called Coco.

This morning, I got woken up by a cockerel. He was loud, persistent and in a fierce standoff with a herd of donkeys.  

If it was up to my brain, I wouldn’t have heard him.

I would also have missed the nonchalant camel ambling past the front door. The smell of jasmine drifting through the night. The fires on the beach. The pounding waves. The friendly dogs. The insouciant cats. The sun warming my bones. The call to prayer. The moon rising high in the darkened sky. The woman who came up to me after the workshop I was running to tell me that I’d just changed her life (I didn’t by the way, she did that all by herself). The small black and white bird diving down to take a bath in the swimming pool. The other woman who told me that she’d felt there was a “before” my workshop – and an “after”. The tears. The yoga. The laughter. The conversations. The connection. The fun. The delicious food. The pleasure of working alongside two women who are experts in their field.

I would have missed it all. Because this week I have been working in Morocco, and before I came, my anxiety – the stuff my brain was coming up with to try and stop me going – was like a negative cheerleader desperately trying to make me stay put.

Here are some of the things it came up with: