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.
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