Once you commit yourself irrevocably to the vision, the noise and confusion start to dissipate.
But you don’t know this on the uncommitted side of endless research (stalling). Instead, you wait and wait for clarity and an iron-clad path. Then continue waiting when they don’t appear.
Trust me, I know. I’ve been there. I did it, got the t-shirt … and then bought a house there in Limbo. Population: Too. Damn. Many.
Do we need a good dose of clarity before we commit? Sure.
But the sharp, crystalline laser focus we’re craving doesn’t come until we paint our faces blue like Braveheart, bellow ‘TAWANDA!’ as we hurl ourselves off the cliff … and then, with the transformed heart of a falling poet, become captivated by how beautiful everything is on the way down.
The miracle? We don’t land in a broken heap. Despite our enthusiastically-spun fears, once we leap and land, we don’t look like a bloody Picasso painting.
Now. We may not look like what we thought we would, may not feel the way we thought we’d feel, and the landscape may be a surprise.
But good gravy, who cares? We just jumped off a cliff, man! We heard the call one day that it was time to jump. So we did.
And in that space, we noticed Beauty. Purpose. We were filled with awe even as the graceful gravity pulled us along. Finally, there was movement. Momentum.
Where we land isn’t the point. The fact that we JUMPED when it was time to jump is the point.
Now there’s a time for rest. For sitting still. Contemplating. Gathering information. Of course.
But at some point, it’s time to move. And if we listen, all our hard work up to that point will yield the instinct of an eagle when we fly.
You won’t suddenly know everything. But you’ll know what you need to know at that precise moment. Which is all you need. Not a thousand-year blueprint of every possible outcome in all lines of time.
Trust me. The rest will come. But only if you’re in motion when it’s time for motion.
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Post Photo: Julie Franks-Murray