“Do one thing every day that scares you.” (Eleanor Roosevelt)
The hardest thing I have had to do since I’ve left New Jersey is be still with my decision and breath into it. I am amazed at how many times in my day when my most challenging choice should be something akin to the size of my cup at Starbucks that I begin to ruminate on life choices, the content of my character, and if my future house will have one bathroom or two. Maybe I have too much time on my hands, but then I am reminded of my most recent past when hours flew by and there were days that I could not even account for, and I still thought the same way.
It’s safe to be in comfortable deliberate behavior patterns, even if the predominant emotion they elicit is irritation, frustration or even worse oozy malaise. And I’m gratefully aware, begrudgingly accepting and thankfully, so sick of all of it that I have finally decided to change. The impetus though was, as usual, it’s opposite; job searching and apartment hunting in Minneapolis for 45 minutes after my mother and brother both told me they thought I should reconsider my plan. The safety net proffered, I felt myself sliding down the slippery slope of a familiar, well-worn, obstacle-free path whereby my bright light might be muted but it was at least a blurriness I would recognize.
I have been in countless situations with friends, colleagues, customers, people I really love, who have stood on the edge of their own well-feathered nest, wanting to topple backward, and I always suggested they leap; so confident was I in their ability to fly. In my own case, I found myself perched on my own precipice, preparing for the next leg of my trip, and I forgot for a moment how to spread my wings and lean forward. “I’ll never visit you if you stay in Minnesota,” my good friend and mentor Beth Bryce told me this morning as she gently hip-checked me into gear. “Oh my God Susan, are you crazy,” bellowed by Shannon in my ear. How awesome to be so loved when self-love stretches thin and feels elusive, unsteady, nothing like magic.
And so I close my eyes and go, doing the next thing that scares me the most, confident that I will be billowed by the loving admonitions, gentle laughter, the “it’s so great to hear your voice,” of my beautiful friend and destination point Cindy Alloway. Such awesome reminders that my ever-expanding community is more than capable of flying with me in Spirit whenever the choice feels too tough. This communion, holy as it is, is one of the most powerful, potent, and sweet, sweet revelations of this journey. I am never alone.