In the last few months I have started a non profit, FUNdamentals for Change (FFC), moved homes, helped my boyfriend start up his new bar, Milltown Bar & Grill, traveled to Jamaica for FFC to begin the plans to build a playground for the school built by Kingston’s garbage dump, quit my comfortable job the day I got back and am now working full time (albeit without pay) on the nonprofit.
So, I guess you can say there’s been a little bit of change in my life. People ask me, how are you? Like, really, how are you doing? And I keep referring to this feeling that describes all the change I’ve been choosing to go through, like that sensation one feels immediately after taking a running leap off a cliff in to a river, or lake, or ocean. You know that feeling? Your legs are still in a running, forward motion. Your arms are making huge, circular motions, as they try to maintain some balance. And it feels as though time as slowed down. Stomach is tight and pushing up in to your chest. You are so highly alert of the speed, sounds and wind on your skin. You are present in the moment. And I bet you have a smile on your face.
Most of us live our lives on the safe, flat edge of life’s cliffs. These cliffs represent our fears; our fears in ourselves. To jump you must have confidence in yourself, faith in the Universe and knowledge that you’re potential is greater than anything you’ve tried up until now. Sure, shit up there can still be scary. I’ve created many precarious situations where I feel like I’m sinking in to oblivion without really going anywhere. But for the most part, if we don’t chose to jump, life would mainly be a fine life. You will be safe. You will make enough money at your job. You will have friends and you would smile often. But what’s the point of just living a safe life?
Right now, as I am on the precipice of my thirtieth birthday, I feel like I’ve just taken that running leap. I’ve jumped away from what was safe in my life. I (finally) believe in my own strength to survive the change and I’m learning to release unnecessary control. I am at that moment where I’m weightless. My arms are making huge, slow, circular motions, as they try to maintain some balance but I know the truth that the speed and inevitability is also determined by an energy greater than my own. I don’t know what’s beyond the deep, emerald green, shimmering surface of the waters below, but I know I will be ok. In this weightless present, I am flying. I can do this. And I know, regardless of the outcome, it’ll be a good story. I have faith.
So, what are you waiting for? Take a leap.