“It’s not the tools that you have faith in — tools are just tools.
They work, or they don’t work. It’s people you have faith in or not.”
— Steve Jobs, Co-founder of Apple Inc.
When I was a kid in junior high, we had a ski hill next to our school. Well… calling it a ski hill might be generous. It was really just a long, snowy riverbank with a crude tow rope made from old cables and rusty car rims.
The “rich kids” — the ones with actual skis and ski jackets — would spend their lunch hour gliding up and down that slope, laughing, competing, owning the space like it was made for them.
The rest of us — the “less equipped” — would ride down on broken bits of cardboard, dodging patches of grass and hoping the ride didn’t end with a face full of snow.
And then there was Bernie.
Bernie didn’t have skis. He didn’t have cardboard either.
What he did have was a pair of plastic-soled shoes and a kind of quiet confidence that let him believe those shoes were enough.
Every noon hour, Bernie would stand at the top of the hill, take a deep breath, and ski down in his shoes — often passing the rest of us.
It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t elegant. But it was glorious.
He had balance, courage, and just the right amount of magic in his stride. Sometimes, he even passed the kids with skis.
While the rest of us trudged through lunch hour with cardboard in hand and secondhand boots, Bernie showed us something no one had told us yet: You don’t need to have what they have to do what they do.
I remember a teacher once came out and told us — all of us without proper gear — to leave the slope to those with skis.
I threw my cardboard in the trash and walked away.
Bernie? He slipped behind the trees and found another path down. Quiet. Defiant. Unapologetically himself.
That memory never left me.
Because Bernie wasn’t just riding a hill — he was making a statement:
I belong here. I don’t need permission. And I’m not waiting until I’m fully equipped to try.
So many of us delay action until we feel like we “have enough.” Enough experience. Enough money. Enough confidence. Enough approval.
But maybe all we need is what Bernie had — a bit of belief, a willingness to try, and the audacity to slide past the doubters on plastic soles.
Self-esteem isn’t about having all the right gear.
It’s about saying: I’m still going down this hill — even if I’m doing it in shoes.
You might not always fit the image. You might get a few disapproving glances. And yes, your socks might get soaked along the way.
But you’ll be in motion. You’ll be learning. And you’ll be proving something far more important than status or style.
You’ll be showing the world — and yourself — that you don’t need to wait to be fully resourced to be fully worthy.
As Theodore Roosevelt once said, “Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.” It’s a reminder that greatness doesn’t require perfection — just presence and effort. You don’t need to have all the gear, the money, or the perfect plan. What matters is that you show up, with whatever you’ve got, and choose to move forward anyway. That’s where confidence is built. That’s where esteem begins — not in the waiting, but in the doing.
Sometimes, the magic isn’t in the equipment. It’s in the person who dares to move anyway.