A Creative Leap of Faith
The school holidays start today. And at the end of them lies a whole new horizon.
With three children at school, our own creative partnership writing/ editing/ publishing/ creative mentoring with Lucent Word becomes our full reality.
And now I realise why. It feels like we are living our very own high wire act. Or swinging from one trapeze to the other… without the aid of a safety net.
It is not a blind jump, but certainly a massive leap of faith financially as we both enter self employment, with zero guarantee of where the next pay check is coming from. I won’t pretend it’s not scaring me as the expenses for school books and uniforms and summer holiday treats begin to raise their heads, the money goes down as I pour my energy into creating the self publishing e-course… it is a spiritual act of faith in ourselves…
Many days I ask myself are we crazy? Are we being arrogant thinking we can do it? Are we being irresponsible for our kids? Will we fall out in the stress of working AND living side by side?
That every one of our friends and families have given us nothing but their wholehearted, delighted support and belief has encouraged me no end. They’re not saying we’re mad… so it must be OK…
They are our audience. watching as we prepare for the next trick.
Letting go of one trapeze and flying through the air…
It feels like our whole life so far has been leading up to this. We have practiced the various steps in isolation. We have been self employed editors and teachers in Japan. And thrived. I was a self employed writer and teacher with one, two and three kids… and thrived. Mr Dreaming Aloud has gone down to three days a week… and still we have thrived. So this is the final step. The leap to grab the silver trapeze. With a mortgage and three kids in tow.
But I know that we can make it work. We have learned enough to spot the landing carefully. To adapt in mid air if we need to.
And I know that we are not in it alone. The space we fly through is not dead.
Because the Universe is winking at us.
Yesterday it gave one of its most delicious cheeky winks, an extended moment of syncronicity which when I recognised its scale took my breath away.
We had a soft launch for our new company, Lucent Word, back in April, just before our spontaneous visit to the London Book Fair. Within two days of launching we had our first two clients coming to us with project ideas which we have been discussing and negotiating since.
Yesterday our youngest finished playschool and learned to ride a bike. For me both these are always big rites of passage – signs that our small, dependent child is heading out into the world without her safety wheels on. And it was, thanks to Universal timing, the day that I started work on our first Lucent Word contract. And signed up our first Womancraft Publishing author… whose project I am beyond excited about. (There are another couple waiting in the wings too!)
Ta-da! Just like that!
I shared it on Facebook, and our dear neighbour and friend said “It’s really real”. It is. It’s really real. This vision which only emerged less than five months ago is really real!
On my birthday last week I had a profound and extended experience of crossing a threshold from one era into another. Physically, emotionally and spiritaully.
And here I am. In mid air. Crossing over. It’s thrilling.
As I was Googling images to create the graphic for this post, I came across this wonderful quote:
Mostly, I spend my time hanging on for dear life to the trapeze bar of the moment. It carries me along at a certain steady rate of swing, and I have the feeling that I’m in control.
I know most of the right questions, and even some of the right answers.
But once in a while, as I’m merrily, or not so merrily, swinging along, I look ahead of me into the distance, and what do I see? I see another trapeze bar looking at me. It’s empty. And I know, in that place in me that knows, that this new bar has my name on it.
It is my next step, my growth, my aliveness coming to get me.
In my heart-of-hearts I know that for me to grow, I must release my grip on the present well-known bar, to move to the new one. Each time it happens, I hope—no, I pray—that I won’t have to grab the new one.
But in my knowing place, I know that I must totally release my grasp on my old bar, and for some moments in time I must hurtle across space before I can grab the new bar. Each time I do this I am filled with terror. It doesn’t matter that in all my previous hurdles I have always made it.
Each time, I am afraid I will miss, that I will be crushed on unseen rocks in the bottomless basin between the bars. But I do it anyway. I must.
Perhaps this is the essence of what the mystics call faith. No guarantees, no net, no insurance, but we do it anyway because hanging on to that old bar is no longer an option.
And so, for what seems to be an eternity, but actually lasts a microsecond, I soar across the dark void called “the past is over, the future is not yet here.” It’s called a transition. I have come to believe that it is the only place that real change occurs.
I have noticed that, in our culture, this transition zone is looked upon as a “no-thing,” a no-place between places. Sure, the old trapeze bar was real, and as for the new one coming towards me, I hope that’s real too. But the void in between? That’s just a scary, confusing, disorienting nowhere that must be gotten through as fast and as unconsciously as possible. What a shame!
I have a sneaking suspicion that the transition zone is the only real thing, and the bars are the illusions we dream up to not notice the void. Yes, with all the fear that can accompany transitions, they are still the most vibrant, growth-filled, passionate moments in our lives.
And so, transformation of fear may have nothing to do with making fear go away, but rather with giving ourselves permission to “hang out” in the transition zone between the trapeze bars.
Allowing ourselves to dwell in the only place where change really happens.
It can be terrifying. It can also be enlightening.
Hurdling through the void, we just may learn to fly.
“We cannot discover new oceans unless we have the courage to lose sight of the shore.” Anonymous