Sometimes I wonder how many times I need the Universe to say "yes" to me before I really, truly believe in myself and where I need to go. I hear it, and then I forget it. I believe, and then I doubt.
I was always the kid that needed to touch the stove to know that it was hot. No one could tell me how to, or what to, or when to, and I had to fall and pick myself up to learn anything. But growing up, testing boundaries happened within the safe bubble of school and parents. As much as I pushed and pulled and stumbled, I was never going to be far from a cushion. And so I believed in myself, in the world, in God, in my family, in friends, I did not doubt deep down that the fabric I existed in was goodness and love. This allowed me to hear the yes, and say yes, to just leap because I didn't worry as much where I would fall.
I couldn't put my finger on one experience that unwrapped that fabric. Everyone experiences pain and disappointment, I know I am not unique in this sense. What I sense has changed in me is that I hesitate to leap, even when I hear the Universe say "yes, yes, yes", because I am terrified of hitting the ground. Maybe because I've felt it before, because I've touched the stove a few too many times and I know how hot it is, because I know that the whole world isn't goodness and love. Maybe because I worry if I will be able to pick myself up again.
I am desperate to change my everyday existence, and I do not use the word "desperate" flippantly. I have spent a long time looking and searching for what it is that I am put here to do, where I am suppsed to go and do and be. I am finally feeling like I am finding the right path, and it happens to be leading me to apply to a master's program in Arts Administration. This terrifies me. It is not a "safe" career choice. There is no definite "path". And who in their right mind would go to art school when clearly our economy is in the crapper? Wouldn't it be prudent to pick a nice, stable job? Aren't the arts the first thing to go? I realize this is sort of irrational, but I'm being honest. I think about these things.
I say to my friend, Diana, "Is it insane for me to worry that as soon as I go back to school, all of this will turn into the next Great Depression?"
Lovingly, she says, "What are you, an 80-year old woman clipping coupons? Are you going to start telling war stories? Get over it. Follow your dream. Do something new."
As soon as she says this, my phone rings. It's the school. They want to confirm that I'm going to attend the prospective students day next week. I say yes. I hear yes. And I need to not forget it.
I was always the kid that needed to touch the stove to know that it was hot. No one could tell me how to, or what to, or when to, and I had to fall and pick myself up to learn anything. But growing up, testing boundaries happened within the safe bubble of school and parents. As much as I pushed and pulled and stumbled, I was never going to be far from a cushion. And so I believed in myself, in the world, in God, in my family, in friends, I did not doubt deep down that the fabric I existed in was goodness and love. This allowed me to hear the yes, and say yes, to just leap because I didn't worry as much where I would fall.
I couldn't put my finger on one experience that unwrapped that fabric. Everyone experiences pain and disappointment, I know I am not unique in this sense. What I sense has changed in me is that I hesitate to leap, even when I hear the Universe say "yes, yes, yes", because I am terrified of hitting the ground. Maybe because I've felt it before, because I've touched the stove a few too many times and I know how hot it is, because I know that the whole world isn't goodness and love. Maybe because I worry if I will be able to pick myself up again.
I am desperate to change my everyday existence, and I do not use the word "desperate" flippantly. I have spent a long time looking and searching for what it is that I am put here to do, where I am suppsed to go and do and be. I am finally feeling like I am finding the right path, and it happens to be leading me to apply to a master's program in Arts Administration. This terrifies me. It is not a "safe" career choice. There is no definite "path". And who in their right mind would go to art school when clearly our economy is in the crapper? Wouldn't it be prudent to pick a nice, stable job? Aren't the arts the first thing to go? I realize this is sort of irrational, but I'm being honest. I think about these things.
I say to my friend, Diana, "Is it insane for me to worry that as soon as I go back to school, all of this will turn into the next Great Depression?"
Lovingly, she says, "What are you, an 80-year old woman clipping coupons? Are you going to start telling war stories? Get over it. Follow your dream. Do something new."
As soon as she says this, my phone rings. It's the school. They want to confirm that I'm going to attend the prospective students day next week. I say yes. I hear yes. And I need to not forget it.
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