A Leap of Faith

what can happen when you trust the path to make itself...

Welcome to my first Substack post! It’s taken a while to get here, but I hope you enjoy it and decide to stay a while. I post on the full and new moons of each month. Posts are currently set to be shared with all subscribers, free and paid. If you have the means to do so, a paid subscription is a much appreciated way to support my writing. Thank you!

---

January 25, 2024 / Full Moon

The third Indiana Jones movie – The Last Crusade – has a powerful scene near the end where Indy has to complete three tasks in order to save his father’s life. The last task may be the most challenging for the otherwise intrepid Indy: he has to find a way across a giant chasm between two rocky cliffs to reach the Holy Grail, which contains life-saving elixir. As he stands on one side and looks across to the other, there is absolutely nothing to walk on. “It’s impossible to jump this,” he mumbles to himself. A look of terror crosses Indy’s face as he realizes his dad’s life is fading quickly, and that he must get across. He puts his hand on his heart, says, “It’s a leap of faith,” and puts one foot out into the void. Lo and behold, a thin strip of rock appears to bridge the deadly gap, and he ever so carefully makes the next step, and the next, until he successfully reaches the other side.

That scene has always stayed with me, especially when it becomes clear I need to make a big change in my life and yet there’s a vast amount of uncertainty about what will happen when I do.

For the past seven years, I’ve been blessed to have contract work with an amazing Native-led nonprofit organization here in New Mexico. I’ve brought skills from my past nonprofit work to help them set up a more effective fundraising program and to coordinate their public-facing communications. I’ve loved this work and have gotten so much more out of it than simply financial compensation: genuine friendships, and the rare opportunity to learn about the Pueblo communities, history, and culture of this area.

Yet over the past half year, a persistent voice inside me has been hinting that it’s time to let this work go, in the service of making space for my creative energies and writing. That voice has only gotten louder and by the last months of the year it became clear that it was time to make a change.

Over and over, the internal message I kept getting was: It’s time for a true writing sabbatical. I’ve done a lot of writing in my life, mostly for other people and causes. Rarely have I taken time to go deep with the stories of my own life, and to give all my energy to learning and practicing the craft of writing. The story I want and need to explore and write about is the journey I took with my aging mom and dad over this past decade. This voice has been pushing me to create space for this to happen, which meant letting go of much of what was currently filling up my time, and what was providing a stable income.

My litmus test for change-making, one I often share with coaching clients, is that it’s important to move toward something, not simply away from something (the exception being an abusive relationship of any kind). In this case that is very much what’s happening. In fact it was a struggle to come to this decision because there are so many things I have valued about this working relationship. But it was time.

Like any leap of faith, this one brought up all kinds of fears, mostly related to the uncertainty of what would come next and how to support myself once I let go of a reliable source of income. I had to remember insights from my own book (Work That Matters) to help me navigate this resistance, especially these three Keys:

• Make Friends with Uncertainty

• Think Big and Make the Most of Your Resources

• Build a Circle of Allies and Ask for Help

(An unabashed plug for the book: It’s full of helpful explorations and practices to strengthen each of those qualities inside yourself.)

Two weeks ago I completed the contract work and since then, the magic of serendipity has shown up. I’ve invited the generosity of readers to help support this time of intensive writing, and many of you have kindly given (thank you!). A dear friend offered her space as a writing retreat location. Two skilled writers reached out and gave me the gift of time to talk through with them what it is I’m wanting to write. Each conversation gave me more clarity on how to move forward with this project, which feels huge and intimidating.

But it’s not just the writing – in the wake of releasing a big anchor in my life, other possibilities are emerging as well, including perhaps starting a bookstore and café in my hometown. I didn’t see that one coming! The universe has a lovely way of surprising us when we loosen our death grip on the need for certainty (and there is no bigger illusion than “certainty”!).

So here I am, in the early phase of a time of writing and being the writer I am called to be. Even now it still takes every ounce of courage I’ve got to face a new set of fears. The other day, after the clarifying conversation with one of my writer friends, these words came to me: “Feeling wholly inadequate to the task ahead of me, nonetheless I venture forward.” And so I do, one step at a time, into the chasm.

I share this because I would imagine at least some of you may be in the same position, pondering what it would mean to let go of some sense or structure of security so that a more authentic version of your life has room to take root. I hope some of this is supportive to your journey as well. I’d love to hear about it—feel free to leave a comment.

Wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking.
- Antonio Machado