Rejection

“What if they reject me?” said the Stag
“You failed”, said the Rat
“What can you learn from rejection?” said the Wren

The River didn’t reject anything

You've been working on it for weeks. The pitch. The proposal. The thing you actually believe in.

And you're about to put it out there.

"What if they reject me?"

It feels like a reasonable question. Almost responsible. But watch what happens next.

The Rat doesn't wait for an answer. It doesn't wait for a "no." It skips straight to the verdict.

"You failed."

Not "they might pass." Not "it might not be for them." You failed. The Rat turns a possibility into a certainty—and makes it personal. Because if you never try, you never have to find out. And the Rat would rather keep you safe than let you be seen.

So you hold back. Or you send it, but you've already let go—not out of confidence, but out of self-protection. You've already absorbed the failure before it arrives.

The Wren doesn't tell you to be brave. It doesn't say "you'll never know unless you try." It asks one thing:

"What can you learn from rejection?"

Not "how do I survive rejection?" Not "how do I avoid it?" Just: what can I learn?

Something shifts. Because learning requires curiosity. And curiosity and self-attack can't live in the same space.

The River didn't reject anything. Not because the River is immune to "no." But because rejection only has power if you treat the outcome as a verdict on your worth. And the River doesn't make that trade.

The "no" can come. It doesn't have to end you.

What have you been holding back because you've already decided the answer?

Stories from the Vltava River.

I am delivering another workshop in London on March 3rd. More information here LINK