I think about the old me, the way I would have grasped and held on, wildly clutching at everything slipping from my grasp. The old me would have felt anxiety and confusion, fear and despair. But now I see it is true that we must let go of things not meant for us in order to make room for the things that are.
So many things in my personal and professional life are shifting, moving, changing. I am a beach, being washed over time and time again, eroding but never disappearing. Nothing is as I thought it would be, and everything is being born anew. Even the part of me that loves regeneration and change is feeling tired and worn.
There was a constant whisper, “What’s next? What’s next? What’s next?” Slowly, the pieces shifted into focus, the picture became clear. My feet are on the launching pad and my toes inching towards the edge. I recognize that letting go creates space, so much expansiveness in which to grow. I am a plant that needs repotting.
“Jump, build your wings on the way down.”
“If you fall, we will catch you.”
I am certain that every bit of the last five years has brought me to this point. All of the breadcrumbs I chased, the places I traveled without knowing why, it is all because of this very Now in which I stand. I am Icarus, Quetzalcoatl, flying into the sun, burning off anything that weighs me down or stalls my flight.
Again and again and again I must trust. Faith can be a four letter word, I’ve found. Growth is not comfortable, but not shedding our skin leaves our bodies and minds constricted. So I go where Spirit calls, I show up and say yes one more time.
Toes on the platform, I inch to the edge and close my eyes.
Falling feels like flying.