If we push to do interesting things, it’s going to get interesting.

The words left his mouth with a chuckle.

I was sitting among strangers, fresh with jet lag, trying to wrap my mind around how I ended up on a farm in West Wales.

There were bits of hay stuck to the mud on my shoes and the color had faded from my fingers. Every breath of the room held in anticipation.

The phrase was wound tightly around the project that would steer my next four months. I hadn’t the slightest idea what it meant, but I smiled politely and readied myself through the silence.

“You’ll be writing a report. A book, rather. Roughly 140 pages in length. I want you to leave here with a printed copy in your hand.”

An uncomfortable laugh escaped from my nerves. He was serious.

He turned to face the whiteboard and continued. “Twelve weeks to print.”

His left hand clutched a black marker and my stomach dropped.

“The topic is stress.”

Questions stacked in my brain as he stepped aside to reveal the scribbled phrase, Don’t be dull.

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