Are you standing close to shore when your heart is yearning for you to wade in further?
I still find myself doing it sometimes - waiting for someone to come in and tell me how to be. This is especially true in certain aspects of my work in the world, particularly when it comes to creating the kind of spaces I know women are craving.
I suppose it's often about the scarier aspects. And by scary I simply mean the ones I want more than anything else; and of course, those are the ones with so many fears attached - some conscious, many still unconscious.
The calling to write, for example. The calling to create something meaningful, to offer clarity where there's confusion, confidence where there's doubt, purpose where there's yearning…The calling to be fully myself...
I can easily get tripped up.
I wade into the water and convince myself that the cooling rush around my ankles would somehow not feel better if I lay back and let the water hold me and, under the brilliance of a blue sky, take me on a ride of bliss, joy and, surely, growth and learning.
No, I convince myself sometimes that it's better here near the shore. Yes, the sun is white-hot; my skin is cracking from the heat; and the trees are blistering, bark peeling. The water kissing my ankles is fine, I think. Lovely, in fact.
I assure myself that being near the bank feels more comfortable. Yes, the sands shift, but surely, I can lift a waterlogged hem up and run back if it proves too much.
The thing I miss though, when I stay too close to what feels safe and comfortable, is the joy of creation.
The joy of creating something only I can make and doing it for no other reason other than my soul is thirsty for it. Of building the sanctuary that exists uniquely in my vision - a place where women can discover what they truly need, where meaning reveals itself naturally, where purpose unfolds like the softest dawn light.
When I’m too close to shore, the water at my feet only further parches my tongue.
I miss the chance to be buoyed, to rise and fall amongst the waves. To drift, yes—to be pushed by the breeze, certainly. And, also, to one day perhaps wake up somewhere entirely new—a place that is magical, holy, and spun out of my own heart's desire.
If I stay, I will have missed feeling free every moment of every day of the voyage.
What about you? Where might you be standing close to shore when your heart is yearning for you to wade further? What are you being called to create, and what would it feel like to trust that deep knowing within?