One Year Later

When I graduated from college back in May '09, I felt hazy about what I would do next. Except when I looked at things from the angle of what I wouldn't do. My internal dialogue sounded something like this: I won't sell my soul and spirit to the 9 to 5 convention. I won't drive myself into the ground with commitment and responsibility to something I'm not passionate about. I won't get the job that sounds good but feels miserable... I won't, I won't, I won't!

Thinking about it now, it reminds me of a scene from the movie Milk when someone confronts Harvey Milk about running such a negative campaign. Milk is told (I'm paraphrasing), "You don't win campaigns by pointing out everything that's bad or by saying what you won't stand for--You win campaigns by creating an inspired vision--something people can hold onto--something people can have hope in and stand behind and fight for--not against."

So I have a secret to share: I've been tossing around ideas. Big ideas. Big, inspired, juicy, exciting ideas. And I've been having these moments of truth where I find myself asking: Why not jump in and get messy with what I love? What do I have to lose? How bad could it really get? Maybe my resistance (and the tug-of-war I have with it) has created just the right combination of space and obligation. Maybe I could really pull it off--a life of authentic pursuit, not just a life of authentic resistance.

Unfortunately, I think we all might be able to guess what my gremlins have to say about my big, juicy dreams...

If you begin working for your own inspired vision you will fail, hate it, suck at it, or die from it. Plain and simple. This is not a laughing matter. Why are you chuckling? YOU SUCK! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO CHUCKLE! (And I meant it... You will die).

Talk about a discouraging internal psyche! Whew! (And I apologize for the scary caps!) But it's the truth--we all have them. The monsters. The goblins. The internal pests that are trying to protect us from failure and scraped knees. The scary caps!

Still. There is another voice that's been nudging me lately. She is much kinder, and sounds something like this...

Apply for the grant. You have all the support you need. You are talented enough with so many beautiful ideas. Your work will make a difference AND you'll feel amazing doing it. Even if (when!) it doesn't go perfectly--you'll learn from it. It will be an important process. You can do it. You can do it. Do it, sweetie. You won't regret it!

So I thought I'd let you know where I am tonight. Somewhere in between fear and trust, with a heart that knows there is nothing authentic without both, and a soul that's hopeful for balance between the two. This is no easy place to be. It feels much like standing at a ledge and readying myself to jump. How will it feel? Terrifying like crashing? Or liberating like flying? Maybe a bit of both is necessary.

I'm mustering the courage to say it's almost time to find out.

What about you? Do you feel yourself teetering between fear and trust? Has your heart reconciled and learned to take leaps? I'd love to hear your story in email, snail mail or comments below. Truly.

And here's one for the big joyful wishes...

May you greet them each with deep trust and knowing, that all the right ones come true.

Word of the Year

Cammie at the top of the Rocky Mountains in July

2009. This is the year I've been waiting for since about 10th grade of high school.

It was then that I knew no one else's plan for my life would fit me quite as well as my own--even if it meant learning some things the hard way. It was then that I began my first real sketch journal, my first exploration into the creative cosmos. I read Thoreau and Emerson and sunk deep into Transcendental thought. I dreamt of abandoning my car and the suburbs for my journal and the woods. I read SARK and plotted impossible things like driving the perimeter of the great USA in 2 weeks with $200. I was full of desperate urgency--the now-or-neverness of rash teendom. "Reality be damned!" I'd cry.

And still today, I can't seem to shake that audacious attitude. But I've gained a sort of knowing that even if I damn reality, it will still be there--with or without my permission. And I've learned that it's better to say yes to it all--to impossible dreams, ingenious problem-solving capacities, hundreds of generous & believing supporters, disgusting inequality, moments of throwing in the towel, and the way my soul knows no answer but to hold onto hope. To say yes to all of these, and then to roll the dice, play the odds, and somewhere in my heart, believe they're in our favor.

Rolling the dice of reality takes something I'm just beginning to let into my life. Something even more brash and brave than dreaming impossible dreams. Something I didn't understand as part of the shake, as the other side of Adventure's coin.

It takes permission to be Vulnerable. To sink into the raw and naked unknown...that dear state of putting your big brave heart on the line and crying your truth to the universe. (All with the hope that somehow when your confetti of dreams fall, they'll give rise to possibility just as they hit the ground.)

My dear sage Jen said to me the other day, "Even when your life feels secure, stable and well planned, it's just an illusion. Because just as fast as you can create a beautiful 5-year plan, something unexpected can come along and wash it right away. Stable people have their lives pulled out from under them every single day."

Sitting across the table, my heart crept up into a cumbersome lump in my throat, about to pound its way out in tears. I know Jen's right. And I've been oscillating between working my ass off for some sort of stability, and surrendering to the inevitable Vulnerability of life.

The path before me is clear these days. This is my year--to sink in deep, to say Yes against my fear, to let go of perfection, to create from the pit of my heart. This is the year for the Vulnerable.

I hope you join me on this ride. I'd love your company along the way.