“As you go the way of life, you will see a great chasm. Jump. It is not as wide as you think.”*
Not the jump-out-of-an-airplane kind of adventure. Not diving with sharks, and most definitely not (ever) climbing anything resembling Mt. Everest.
No, this is an adventure of heeding the voice that shouts “go that way!” when staring at one of life’s crossroads.
Sometimes we listen to that inner voice. Sometimes we don’t. Sometimes it takes a while for the message to get through.
Well, I’ve been listening. For quite a long time now. And despite its ever-growing volume, I, naturally (as any rational person might), had plenty of perfectly tidy reasons for resisting what I’ll call the calling of my soul. Things like: It’s not practical, not sensible, it might be lonely or I might fail. And those things may be true. But no degree of stewing or planning, and certainly no length of talking about it, lessened the feeling that I was being led somewhere else, and that a leap of faith was required. Reasonable or not, resistance was futile. It was time to answer the call. To say “yes”. Period.
And with that realization – that acceptance – my anxiety and indecision fell away. Poof! The “where” became clear; I would go back to the southwest. It’ll be my Sedona: Part II. Confirmations appeared. Synchronicities. Opportunities. Details began to align. Amazing.
So. I’ll soon be trading tree-lined suburban streets for red rocks and cactus. Shingles for adobe. Manhattan’s high-rises for big wide skies. With my sensible list out-maneuvered by a relentless push for greater creative expression, I’m full-tilt trusting my gut and hoping the universe has my back.
Of course, yes, there’s a stack of bittersweet that comes with it. I’ll miss being close to the sea. I’ll miss my Japanese maple and tending my sweet English garden out front. The swings hanging from a big old oak tree. Copious amounts of tea and conversation shared with friends. Hot fudge ever present on the stove. (Wait. Actually, that probably won’t change.) Walls that expanded and rooms that comforted. This is the home where I raised my daughter, my heart filled to overflowing. Twenty of the more than thirty years of my graphic design business happened while here. Books were born into the world. Paintings were made. Heartaches healed. Joys. Tears. Laughter. Magic. If a house could love, this one did. Some of my best years lived here, so there’s been some “good-bye” that’s had to happen.
But I’m reminded that nothing is permanent. I’m reminded that a spirit denied becomes cranky and impatient. I’m reminded that we must, indeed, be true to ourselves.
And as I leap across Joseph Campbell’s proverbial chasm – it could be my imagination, but – it seems the universe is dancing. A new chapter begins; adventures await.
* Advice given to a young Native American, noted in Joseph Campbell’s “Power of Myth”.