Sometimes grabbing the bull by the horns simply means hanging on to a bucking bronco. Not every decision I make will be a big one and not all of it will be exciting. There’s a lot of riding it out whenever I […]
Sometimes grabbing the bull by the horns simply means hanging on to a bucking bronco. Not every decision I make will be a big one and not all of it will be exciting. There’s a lot of riding it out whenever I decide to make significant changes in my life. Some of the leaps I want to make are multi-faceted: they affect others; they have consequences to my well-being, my finances, so I might want to take some of them slowly. Not fearfully, nor willy-nilly, like the General Lee driving off a cliff. I just need to have a bit of forethought. Once I envision the road ahead, I’ll occasionally need to just yield the right of way. I will get there, I am sure, one decision at a time.
Yesterday was one of those in-between days, and I am reminded that I am not where I want to be. But I am not defeated by this. I know what I don’t want, and have steered clear of some choices that I know are not for me. I don’t envy other people’s drive for corporate success. But darn it, I have to admit, having a need of money can sure be a motivator for staying at the job you don’t want to do. This house won’t pay itself and even though I have a money tree in my house, it’s more green thumb than greenback. If only places took Canadian Tire or Monopoly money as actual currency! I’m sure I’ve got a few hundreds kicking around of those.
So, you might say, I’m in a holding pattern of sorts. I will keep pursuing what gives me life, keep looking and creating opportunity for myself and hope that the mundane doesn’t take too much else from me. I have taken leaps before and if need be I will take a giant leap again, not for mankind like Armstrong did, but for my own well-being and living out my true authentic, creative self. The sky is the limit, really. And since I’ve been here before it can be kind of like a familiar, old friend. Nobody wants bumps in their life, but bumps might lead to innovative thinking, and downsizing, and living differently. And I am ultimately ok with all that.
I want this 2020 year to matter. I want it to be a year (heck, a decade) of yeses. My roaring 20s. A time of leaping in, head-first into the new unknown, this time, hopefully, without as much fear as the year before.
Before I knew that 2020 was an actual Leap Year, I had this idea that I wanted to leap into this new year, with some intention. Yeah, yeah, I know, everyone makes promises when another year comes to a close, so what do I have to say that hasn’t already been said? Thankfully, this isn’t anyone else’s story but my own. I will even let myself off the hook if I don’t end up being the most clever, most witty or most profound. These are my musings.
But it’s true; I want this 2020 year to matter. I want it to be a year (heck, a decade) of yeses. My roaring 20s. A time of leaping in, head-first into the new unknown, this time, hopefully, without as much fear as the year before. I can picture a 1990s Barbara Walters, in white pantsuit and brown beads, rooting for me with her, “Good evening, I’m Barbara Walters. And this is 2020.” Who can argue with that?
One of the reasons I feel so strongly about taking this leap is that I feel like death has hung over me like a cloud for some time, and I want it to stop. Sure, I have been very ill as of late, with more than a few unrelated health issues that provide me with an adequate scare and have caused me to wonder how near the time might be. In addition, I have had recurring thoughts not unlike Jimmy Stewart’s George Bailey, wondering whether anyone would notice my absence should I jump off that metaphoric bridge, leaving only a ripple in the water. All of these thoughts have created a soupy swirl of dread that consume my conscience at night and my soul throughout the day. I wrote a song a few years back that iterate the concept of the Grim Reaper whispering lies to me, telling me my name had been drawn, while I waited and waited with suitcases packed for years for him to come and get me.
The reality is that I don’t know when my time will be up. Sounds obvious, right? But it’s true. And this is meaningful for me who has had death, and the fear of it, rob me of my now. I chose the website name, “Yes is now” because I wanted to give a proverbial middle finger to death and say, “Now is the only thing of which I am certain, and the one thing you can’t take from me.” We all know death will meet us someday, but not right now. I cannot control that fact, but I can take the bull by the proverbial horns and actually live my life. Heck, it’s in my name to live: Liv! Yup, that’s what I am gonna do. I am gonna live. I can make positive changes for myself. I can choose to eat better, exercise more, be more grateful, kinder, more generous. All of these are in my now, and this is Day 1. If you decide to come along for the ride, we can see where we both started and where we end up. Say yes for now, because yes is now!
