The voice was loud. Screaming. Demanding. Telling me that I am nothing but a fool. That all this new-found faith and direction is nothing more than a waste of time. The best course of action is simply to stop the madness and retreat.
The path is unknown, dangerous, untraveled, and uncertain.
I have been here before. I have most certainly been here before. And I have always turned around and made my way back. On occasion, by some luck or unforeseen miracle, and despite of my own best efforts I may add, my friends or family coerced me or pushed me to leap.
It seems that all the success and indeed, any progress I have every experienced in my life, was a result of uninvited pressure that was suddenly thrust upon me. Life painted me into a corner and gave me no other choice. It made me leap and become someone I had never been.
It is very nice to have encouraging family and friends. It is great to see moments in your life when you are reluctantly pushed off the comfortable branch, like a baby bird, whose mother is determined to teach her how to fly. This is indeed a very nice moment, poetic even, except that it doesn’t happen too often.
The voice of resistance is loud, persistent, and shouts orders at me very often. I am told it is there to keep us safe. You never know when a dinosaur or hungry bear will decide to make a meal out of us. The voice keeps us comfortable. It fears change, and ensnares us. It protects us in a fortified bunker.
I heard its voice last night.
As I was going to bed, it got very loud. It made me cry.
I couldn’t help but tremble. Instinctively, I thought of quitting everything. After some time, I was so emotionally overwhelmed that I gave in to its unrelenting gesticulations. Almost immediately, the voice grew calmer. I said, thank you, for trying to protect me. It unhurriedly unclenched its grasp, and slowly left me alone.
I slept like a baby.
I realized this morning that I must be onto something. The voice usually doesn’t speak up, and with such force, unless there is something great on the horizon. I don’t know what it is. I can’t see the future. I don’t know what form it is going to take or how long it will be, but I am getting more skilled in handling that cancerous voice of mine.
I really don’t want to change. Who does? We all want the summer last forever, but the bright and elongated summer days will never feel as warm without the long and dark days of winter. Fire shines brightly, precisely because it consumes the wood it feeds upon.
Change is painful.
Our lives are no different. Our new self needs to bury the old self. The new self, unlike the old self, may not be as beloved or respected by those who mourn our old self, because he was indeed very predictable and comfortable. He knew his place. He stayed in the trench. He minded his business. He shut up and didn’t question the lot he was dealt. His lot was final. He knew change was futile.
All of this might be a bit philosophical or mystical at first glance. Nothing more but a few romanticised words, beating around the bush.
If I was to put it in very plain terms, I would say that I am making some very conscious decisions these days that will ultimately change everything and it scares the living shit out of me.
I get scared because I my plans to write a book this summer. Plans to continue my morning weight training routine at 4:30 in the morning. Plans to tighten up my diet. Plans to keep reading, listening, and growing as a person. Plans to develop my photography business. Plans to get rid of our debt. Plans to launch a new musical act in an already over saturated musical scene in my native Poland. Plans of joining toastmasters and become a national speaker. Plans to keep writing this somewhat underwhelming blog, until the internet becomes as useful as a typewriter. Plans to keep working. Plans to dig ditches. Plans to keep dreaming. Plans to keep being a good example for my family.
There is a lot of work ahead.
The voice of resistance has spoken up and I think he has every right to. I thank him for the advice and concern. I know he is just trying to protect me from the dangers that are to come. From disappointments. From the endless struggle. From unfulfilled and unrealized dreams. The voice of resistance is protecting me from me.
He has a great point. Life is not really that bad. It is great. I cannot argue against it. It is the truth.
Case and point.
I have a wonderful family. I am eighteen years into a very rewarding profession. I am afforded a lot of time to enjoy what life has to offer.
But here is the rub.
What the voice doesn’t know, is that I want to see the world, and connect with people on a global scale. No matter how big or nice my square of space seems to be, I want the financial freedom and opportunity to do the things I can only dream about.
In order to be who I want to be, I have no choice but to leap into the abyss. I have no choice, I need to do the work, even when I don’t know where I am going. I cannot see or feel what is to come, but I must make many sacrifices, in order to obtain it.
Thank you for reading. It means a lot. Writing can be a lonely endeavor, but I always think of you, and this makes it a bit more bearable.
If you hear the voice of resistance, and she begins to yell in your ear, for whatever reason, don’t listen. Don’t heed. Don’t argue. Don’t move.
Say thank you.
Take a deep breath. Get a good night’s rest, and take the very next step.