Because I couldn’t see the logic of not jumping off the cliff and instead felt, with all my heart, that the jump must be made, I took the leap; it was the leap that changed everything and brought me into the glory of a luminous world that lives within everyone and everything.
And once I’d made that leap it became so easy to do it again, and again, whenever I found myself in a corner and couldn’t see the light. I had discovered that light lives in the leap. And love awaits the courageous act.
And now nothing could ever keep me from the leap or dampen my courage. What a gift this was and I am still so grateful. It is the best truth I ever learned and worth every bruise I ever suffered.
Without the leap we don’t understand a thing. We think the glory is in the withholding, the caution, politeness, acceptance, boundaries.
But none of those places hold truth. And none of them teach us to fly.
Caution is a weighted thing and it puts you on the bench to watch the game.
Caution keeps you seated nervously on the cliff’s edge viewing everything you fear below, counting all the reasons that a leap would ruin you, explaining all the ways it could go badly, telling stories of how to live with planning and steadfastness without ever being foolish.
At the end of the game, you’ll see that it was you being foolish.
Because everything that ever mattered lived in the leap; that one moment of taking a breath and trusting in the wind to carry you, seeing suddenly that letting go was everything – it was always the point of your existence and the reason for your story.
From my upcoming book: Putting On The Divine Lens