I have heard this maxim from various sources over the years, and while I comprehend its wisdom, I can't seem to get up the cajones to enact the command: leap. The years accumulate and I don't get any closer to the goal.
So what is the goal? There's the rub. I don't think it's any one accomplishment (not that I don't have daydreams of winning the Griffin Poetry Prize, or accepting an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay). No, it's not about that. I want to live an interesting life. To be bold. To genuinely connect with people and contribute something valuable to the conversation. To live with a general sense of well-being, and when it's knocked off kilter, to call upon a deep well of inner strength in order to put myself right again. I want to find a location and a vocation that is in line with my calling.
I would love to feel (and truly believe) that the hours I spend alone writing, typing, deleting, retyping, researching, agonizing over, and loving words is something that I do to serve something greater than myself. The thing is, if I'm really honest, I do believe in the value of my potential contribution. It's my awareness of the diligence and self-discipline it will take to get me there that summons the demons of self-sabotage. Humility taken too far, like ego, can be a force of distortion and destruction.
I feel as though I have been on the precipice of leaping for some time now, but it will either take a momentous act of self-will or a gentle nudge from behind to push me over. I have to forget about the net. There is no net. There is no treacherous abyss of no return, either. It's endless space, endless possibility.
Storygridding 4,000 words of Big Idea Nonfiction - For fun, over at www.storygrid.com a while back, I storygridded Malcolm Gladwell’s seminal article from the June 3, 1996 edition of The New Yorker. I trac...
1 day ago