At the last TEDx COS event, I went to the after party and met one of the speaker coaches, Bob. I confessed to him that I aspire to be a public speaker and to give a TEDx talk.
He asked me very poignantly, “Did you make it to the stage tonight?”
I paused and looked at him with confusion.
“You know, to visualize yourself on stage,” he continued.
This past weekend, when I attended the second TEDx COS event, I made sure to take Bob’s advice and get on stage, to look out at the sea of seats and envision what it would be like to tell my story to a large audience.
It was a tad intimidating, AND embarrassing, walking past the TEDx production crew, speakers and volunteers to get to the red dot where the speakers stand and look out at the empty auditorium. Cue my self-doubt : you’re intimidated now, the seats are empty, just wait until they are filled with people watching you! My heart beat faster.
I took a deep breath and told my negative committee to sit down and shut up. I’ll ensure I’m more than prepared to give a talk about my story, I thought. After all, shouldn’t I be the expert of my own story?!
For an introvert, the possibility of speaking in front of hundreds of strangers does continue to make my heart palpitate abnormally fast, yet at the same time, I’m intrigued with the idea. Mainly, I want to overcome my fear of public speaking and I feel that my story is worthy of sharing.
I’m going to apply for the next round of speakers for the spring of 2020, and I’ll see what transpires. But for now I’m keeping that vision of speaking on a TEDx stage in focus, bringing my story to life and speaking my truth to inspire others.
Special thanks to the staff, speakers and volunteers at the September 2019 TEDx COS event who put on a wonderful event. I’ll be seeing you next year!
And to those of you reading who have a dream: speak it into words, tell someone trusted and safe, then tell strangers. Visualize your dream happening. Feel like it has already happened. That’s when the universe will reward you with what you’ve been speaking and visualizing, bringing it to life!
“When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.” Lao Tzu
For the last few years I have been on an inadvertent journey of self-discovery and reflection. I’ve spent an embarrassing number of years avoiding those topics out of fear of what I might find. What little I did know about myself, I didn’t really like because it would mean confronting some hard truths that my insecure sense of self and pride might not be able to weather.
I can write that now with the spark of clarity that comes from two years of various forms of therapy: licensed therapists, self-help books, Youtube videos, journal writing, and most surprisingly Brazilian Jiu Jitsu (BJJ).
BJJ is a martial art that focuses on grappling maneuvers and the magic of physics and human anatomy to apply joint locks and strangulation to subdue sometimes larger opponents. When a person concedes the roll (sparring session), they will tap.
I started training a little over two years ago, when a friend, who was a competitive purple belt, and who taught and trained BJJ, suggested I check it out. I was immediately hooked. The physical demands were challenging but what kept me coming back was how BJJ reflected my personality back to me in ways I couldn’t ignore. I learned more about myself in training than every personality quiz, test and assessment I had ever taken combined (and I’ve taken them all). Seeing how I reacted when I felt cornered, what I resorted to when I got desperate, and most importantly what I was willing to put my body through just so I could win was truly eye-opening.
I realized that I had lived many years of my life not knowing what I wanted. I approached my rolls with no plan. I just spazzed (technical term) and grabbed whatever I could and tried to hold on for dear life. Unfortunately, that didn’t work against anyone but the least experienced opponents. BJJ taught me that if I wanted to win, I needed to know what I wanted first so I could develop a plan to get there.
This was the first of many lessons BJJ had to teach me. BJJ became an outlet for me to prove to myself and others that I was tough. I harnessed my emotions, and used them as fuel for my training. I pushed myself, increased my pain threshold and my ability to withstand and adapt to all kinds of situations. I learned to breathe, and to approach my training with plans and goals in mind. And I learned that sometimes to gain a better position, you have to let go.
Even though BJJ is an individual sport, you can’t train alone. You need partners, ideally a community of people who push each other to work hard, support each other and improve. The people I trained with became my community. These people have helped me through some tough times and for that, I will forever be grateful. It’s a strange sport where the same people who tried to break my arms and strangle me with my own clothing were also my teammates and teachers, who helped me grow both mentally and physically. Though it might hurt for a while afterward, each injury taught me a valuable lesson and I’ve accumulated a few.
Sadly, my body doesn’t bounce back the way that it used to when I was younger. As I write this, I’m still nursing an injury from a dislocated finger from several months ago and a reverse cervical lordosis diagnosis. Training now would mean pushing past the limits of my body and mind only to satisfy my pride. Of all the injuries I’ve sustained or gotten since starting BJJ, my ego is the one that takes the longest to heal, and it’s been the hardest lesson for me to learn.
In addition to the physical limitations I’m confronting the fact that the anger I used to feed my training is now scarce. When I first started in the sport I was working through a lot of personal challenges and trying to figure out what I wanted. As I learned to spazz out less on the mats I have learned to spazz out less in life too. I’m identifying more of what I want, which has led to a less angry version of myself.Brazilian jiu-jitsu taught me about myself in ways I never would have imagined. I learned many hard lessons along the way, not least of which is that progress is rarely linear. Sometimes moving forward means taking a step back. In my journey to better understand myself and keep myself in balance, I need to respect where my body and mind are at right now. Which means that for now at least, I’m tapping out.
I distinctly remember when I noticed something wasn’t okay. I was sitting in a beginner’s meditation class, focusing on my breath, attempting to do a body scan. My normal pitfall, monkey brain (racing thoughts, the inability to stay present) wasn’t the issue. In an attempt to scan my body, I noticed a disconnect, an inability to feel my chest or from my navel on down. Rationally, I knew my chest, hips, pelvis and legs were in tact, but I looked down just to get a visual confirmation.
Curious to understand, I brought it up with my massage therapist. She stated that maybe my body had experienced trauma and was shut down as a result. She recommended I see psycho-somatic trauma release therapist named Jennifer, and the rest became history.
For my first appointment with Jennifer I was excited yet anxious. Going to multiple therapists before, both in my hometown and current city, and I knew it could be hit or miss. It all came down to “can I open myself up to her, allow myself to be vulnerable?”, ultimately, “Do I trust her?”
Walking into the office, I looked at her set up, her chair in one corner, my chair in the other. “Can I lay down?” I asked her.
“Absolutely!” she responded, “whatever your body needs.”
I paused and took note: whatever my body needs.
I ended up snuggled among pillows and blankets, laying on a pad on the floor.
She asked me where I wanted to start, if I had any physical traumas I wanted to unpack.
“I had a traumatic brain injury in high school,” I commented.
I began talking about my concussion that ended my promising soccer career. I gave her details of the field, what position I was playing, who I saw, what I saw right before I landed. I described feeling out of body afterwards, and how everyone mentioned that I looked drunk running around the field, running in the opposite direction, stumbling.
Taking notes, Jennifer paused and asked the simple question, “Did anyone tell you you were safe afterwards.”
Stunned by the question, I hesitated then answered with a single word: NO
Jennifer had me hold the part of my head that hit the ground, and tell it, and my body, I was safe.
Taking a deep breath in, gathering confidence, I stated “You’re safe.”
In a dizzying frenzy, the room spun out of control, I felt nauseous, I closed my eyes. Immediately, Jennifer had me open them and pick out five things in the room that were blue.
In rapid fire, I spit out, “the wall, the tapestry, the light, the vase, the bottle.” My body slowly returning to the present moment with each blue object I found.
That session ended, not before making sure I felt safe emotionally and physically after the reorientation. The rest of that week I felt pretty raw and vulnerable. I equate it to a scab being torn back open to scoop out the festering, putrid rotten insides, to then have the burning sensation from the rubbing alcohol to ensure its proper healing. Although I wanted to do nothing but hide from the world to address my wound in private, I noticed that my generalized anxiety, that heightened sense of alertness, always on edge, had dissipated.
My thoughts were clearer. I was present in the moment. Emotional triggers lessened. I could make decisions faster and with less worry. I felt… myself again.
Over the course of the year in therapy, I’ve had similar experiences where my body reoriented, or re-calibrated itself. After I sent my mom to the moon in a sound proof box (I love you mom!), my hips magically relaxed. After I turned my boundaries, that I originally described as an “open field of grass with a flowing breeze”, into a fortress with locks and motes and alligators ready to attack, the lump in my throat disappeared and I was able to state my physical and emotional boundaries more easily. Each time, I began to feel more and more present, less anxious, less depressed, less triggered. I felt I could give genuinely, from an authentic place, to my students at school, to my friends and family. I was less tired, had more vitality and my creative energy emerged.
Now I pay more attention to my body. I pay attention when it shuts down around certain people and when it feels at its best around others. I pay attention to the still, small voice of my intuition. Now after a year with Jennifer, more often than not, its a loud, decisive voice telling me what I should do or shouldn’t do.
I’m eternally thankful for Jennifer. I no longer call her my therapist but my healer. She has helped me return to my authentic self after two solid decades in hiding. I’ve recommended her to several friends, some of whom have taken my advice and called her. If you are in the Colorado Springs area, and looking for a therapist I highly and strongly recommend her. If you are outside of the Springs and looking for a form of therapy to relieve anxiety, depression, PTSD, OCD, or addiction, then I recommend looking into psycho-somatic trauma release.
If you are looking for resources about psycho-somatic trauma release, read Peter Levine’s books, Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma and In An Unspoken Voice: How the Body Releases Trauma and Restores Goodness. Somatic Trauma Release helps relieve trauma symptoms such as anxiety, depression, OCD, ADD, addiction andothers by relieving physical tension/stored energy that haven’t been released since the original trauma occurred. By safely and properly releasing tension/energy, the somatic symptoms of trauma are greatly reduced and in some cases eventually dissipate completely.
(Editor’s Note: Jennifer Kelly is a somatic processing therapist in Colorado Springs, Co. You can inquire about therapy and book an appointment with her at her website Divine Insight . This article was written independently of Jennifer and her business, and is not intended to be an advertisement. I have her permission to publish her contact and business information, at no cost to her. It’s merely a resource for those who may be looking for a therapist in the Springs area.)
Today’s post transports me back to a time when I was still living in Philadelphia, working in Camden, New Jersey as a special education teacher, hating my life, feeling stuck. I worked a job that had little regard for a work-life balance, working ten hour days, 50 hour work weeks and bi-weekly Saturday schools. I’d come home with little to no energy to take on any personal projects of my own. My. Soul. Felt. Empty.
It was a time when I was searching for something, anything, as a sign for what was next. I got that sign in the form of the book The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. It was the second and third pages of the Introduction that became my “sign”. Here Paulo writes about a personal calling (what you were put on earth to do, igniting enthusiasm within you) and the obstacles that one has to face in order to achieve it. But what really stood out to me was this:
“Intense, unexpected suffering passes more quickly than suffering that is apparently bearable; the later goes on for years and, without our noticing, eats away at our soul, until, one day, we are no longer able to free ourselves from the bitterness…”
Upon reading this, I wept uncontrollably. I was living the bearable suffering, too scared to chase my personal calling. I felt my soul being eaten away by my job and by my place in the world. Bitterness had started to creep in.
I read that on a Sunday. By Thursday of that same week, I walked into my job and resigned. It was such a quick decision I hadn’t even called my mom for fear of her talking me out of it. After I had given my letter of resignation, I called her to state my plan.
My plan: I move home for two months, backpack Australia for a few months and then head off to Colorado to start a new life. As much as I was adamant about this plan (deep down I knew it needed to be done), somehow I felt like a failure. Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a special ed teacher? Maybe I wasn’t good enough to be successful at that school? Maybe I wasn’t good enough to continue with the life I was living?
NOPE. N-O, shit naw. Wanna know what ACTUALLY happened?
I FINALLY FIGURED OUT MY WORTH!
I was worthy of so much more than what I was getting out of my job and my life back in Philadelphia. That was no longer my path and I sensed it. Kudos to me, because as Paulo stated in his introduction some people never figure it out. And I’m so very thankful for the friends, family and my therapist at the time who helped me to remember my worth.
Two years after moving home for two months, backpacking Australia for four months and then moving to Colorado I can tell you I am that much closer to realizing my personal calling. I still have a few hurdles to jump, some decisions to make but I know it’ll be worth it AND that I AM WORTH IT.
So if you are living your life thinking that this current path just doesn’t feel right, but you think you’d be a failure for quitting, please know, please deeply understand and feel that you aren’t a failure. You’re coming to realize your worth. You’re starting to understand your path, your next steps in your journey, following your own personal legend.
Coelho ends the introduction of The Alchemist with this:
“But if you believe yourself worthy of the thing you fought so hard to get, then you become and instrument of God, you help the soul of the world, and you understand why you are here.”
Help the world by following your personal calling, by knowing your worth, by knowing when to walk away.
“So Why Are You Afraid of Intimate Relationships?”
Those were the words a friend asked on Sunday that have still stuck with me since spoken. The question hit me like a punch to the gut. I broke down immediately.
It was a topic my therapist had also sneakily asked when I was separating my fears, a visualization exercise to help me separate my own fears and my mother’s fears that she instilled in me growing up. I was taking stock of my fears and packing up ones that no longer served their purpose.
“Fear of intimacy?” She asked. It took a second for me process, as it wasn’t a fear I had identified on my own prior to the sorting exercise.
“Keep,” I responded, my therapist glancing at me with a smile, both of us knowing it was a short term protective measure I’d be revisiting soon.
Why the fear of intimacy? Intimacy requires a high degree of vulnerability and trust. It requires Opening myself up, all of myself, the light and the dark, to be seen and deeply understood.
Maybe my fear stems from opening up and being hurt in the past. Maybe I’m afraid because my models for intimate relationships were completely dysfunctional, whereas instead of equating intimacy to trust, compassion and respect, I equate it to abandonment, loss and rejection. Maybe I’ve felt safest keeping those I love at a distance. Maybe in order to be intimate with another I must first love and illuminate the darkest parts within me, to make peace with them.
Since Sunday I’ve been ruminating on this. Since Sunday I’ve known this is the next fear I need to tackle. Since Sunday I’ve been an emotional wreck, waiting with anticipation to unpack and process this fear in therapy.
Last night I had the privilege of hanging with my two climbing partners Adam and Greg at Go Vertical in Philadelphia. It had been at least 7 months since I had climbed last and even longer since I had had a regular climbing routine in the gym. Walking into Go Vert, I set my expectations fairly low, thinking I’d start at 5.6s and maybe I’d be able to complete 5.7s by the end of the night. I was trying to avoid disappointment by my inability to achieve the 5.9/5.10s I was once tackling before I decided to step away from the climbing scene. Nonetheless, I was excited to get back on the wall and see how far I could push myself.
Shooting up my first 5.6 route of the night, I was impressed that I could remember certain techniques and control my body positioning. I was also surprised at what great shape I was in despite my long hiatus. After belaying Greg on his 5.7 arete warm up route, he asked if I wanted to give it a go. I exclaimed, “why the fuck not”, my new life motto, and gave it a try.
The first few holds were jugs, making it fairly easy to climb, although a quarter of the way up the holds became smaller and foot holds were non-existent. Previously, this scenario would have flustered the hell out of me. My breath would shallow, my mind would lose focus, my fingers and forearms in pain, the overwhelming amount of stimuli would be enough to make me give up. But this time was different. I steadied my breath, focused on the problem, shook out my arms one at a time while resting steadily, trusting my feet. With a deep inhale I positioned my left arm on the arete, anchored it by shifting my weight to the right, stuck my feet on the wall and victoriously reached up for the next hand hold. I was determined to climb the route cleanly, without falling, just to prove to myself that I could. Getting past that one tricky spot, I climbed the rest of the route with ease, tapped out on top and was lowered to the ground with a smile on my face. I was in disbelief that I successfully completed the 5.7 cleanly, exceeding my previous expectations. With that climb under my belt, I was aching to see what level I could max out on.
Following Adam and Greg’s climb, I challenged myself to a 5.8- route with an overhang. In my climbing experience, overhangs have always been my nemesis. Just the anticipation of tackling an overhang has filled me with anxiety, usually stifling any chance at true success. But as I did with the 5.7, I thought, why the fuck not, and gave it a try.
As I had anticipated, just at the point of the overhang, my progress stalled and my shallow breathing kicked in. My mind went blank while my arms and fingers ached, and I let go, swinging out from the wall. Adam who was belaying me asked if I wanted to stay for another attempt. I replied, “fuck yea!”
Kicking off the wall and swinging myself back towards the route I grabbed a jug and pulled myself back onto the holds. I tried to recall how I had scaled overhangs in past climbs. Get your feet high, I told myself. Feet high, hips into the wall, and swing like a pendulum to get to the next hand hold.
After two failed attempts, and some recovery time to regain energy, I planted my feet high, swung my body up and grabbed the hold letting out a loud grunt, with cheers from Adam and Greg below. I completed the rest of the route, not cleanly, but that didn’t matter. I hadn’t given up, which was a success in itself. Before my hiatus, I would have abandoned the route on my second failed attempt. Tonight though, I had a fire burning inside, determined to push my limits and exceed my own expectations. Defeat was not an option.
The rest of the night I stuck to 5.7s and completed one more 5.8 before doing a quick 5.5 to top out, leaving all of my energy on the wall. When the night was over I had nothing but a large grin plastered on my face. I felt exhausted yet empowered, reveling in my personal success.
Coming back from my gap in training, I mentally prepared myself to expect failure. Realistically, There was no way I was going to be able to get back to the 5.9s/5.10s I was working on before my time off, and I knew I had to set realistic goals for myself in the gym. I also relied on self-compassion, allowing myself to be disappointed that I’m not at my best, but I was enough at the moment. This mindset helped me to remain positive when I experienced a set back or challenge, and allowed me to enjoy my time with my friends. I truly enjoyed my time hanging with Greg and Adam, living in the moment, shooting the shit about life, cheering each other’s successes and supporting one another through our personal struggles on the wall.
Returning to the gym and being not far off of my personal best has renewed my resolve to get back into the climbing routine. It’s my hope that I can cultivate this wild flame of willpower to overcome and surpass all of my own expectations, reaching above what I think I am capable of achieving in the climbing gym and beyond. I implore you to also think beyond your own comfort zone and ability. When you reach beyond the limits you set for yourself, the possibilities far exceed anything you may be able to ascertain.
Prior to coming over to Australia, I had determined that this trip was going to be a life experiment in letting go. If I could let go of my expectations and trust that the universe would provide everything I needed, then I’d be happier. But as with every experiment, there is the potential that the trials may yield different results.
As I now sit here in Cairns, waiting to in the airport to depart for home at the end of my Australia adventure, I believe there is an added variable in play that I did not anticipate in my original hypothesis. Although I still think that my original theory, letting go and putting trust in the universe, is accurate, I’d like to amend my original statement.
It was about a 3 months ago that I had this epiphany that came in the form of a conversation with my work exchange host, Steve, with whom I was working to renovate a rental property that he owned. On one of our daily drives back from the property, I was explaining to him my decisions for coming to Australia.
It was in that moment that he pondered what I had said, and formulated his response. Steve, being an avid traveler and vagabond in his younger days, had traveled around Asia, Europe and America, living dollar to dollar, picking up odd jobs and renovation work wherever he could to supplement his travels. His response was based in his years of experience cheaply traveling the globe, but it was so profound that I determined it was the missing component of my now seemingly incomplete hypothesis.
“I don’t think it’s a matter of trusting the universe, I think it’s about trusting yourself in your own abilities,” he insisted. To explain his point, he proceeded to tell me a story about a bird, who found himself on a weak, unsteady branch. “Now this bird has two options,” Steve continued, “he can trust that the branch will hold him, or he can trust his wings and his ability to fly.”
I was so dumbfounded by Steve’s response that I sat in the car speechless. He was right. All the bird needed to do was trust his wings, not the branch. Maybe I didn’t just have to trust in the universe to provide all that I needed, but more so I had to trust in my own abilities to go after all that I needed and wanted.
The rest of the afternoon I reflected on this new way of thinking, and checked to see if it had applied it to my travels on my Australian adventure. Undeniably, there had been moments when the “branch” fell out from under me, in the form of missed or canceled flights, miscommunication or tension with a host, last minute plans falling through, cancelled tours, and rearranging travel plans in the aftermath of a major cyclone. But at the end of the day, I persevered, pushed through the awkward, uncomfortable or stressful situations and ensured that things worked in my favor. Despite having the branches fall out from under me on numerous occasions, indeed I did fly.
Therefore, after months of research into my life experiment in letting go, I can amend my hypothesis to be more accurate. To live a life filled with happiness, I do need to let go and put trust in the universe to provide all that I need. But, when the branch does inevitably fall, thanks to the multiple tests and trials I faced in Australia, it is with deep faith that I can now trust my ability to spread my wings and fly.
Let go of what does not serve you – Make room for what is still to come
Letting go easily has never been a strength of mine. Admittedly, anything I’ve ever let go had claw marks on it from holding on too tightly. I’ve lived most of my adult life heavily attaching myself to things, people, feelings and identities. In the event I did let go, the pain was so overwhelming that I would lose myself in the process.
In reality, things, people, feelings, they all come and go, in and out of our lives in different times. What I’ve come to realize is that no matter what the season, everything comes into our life for a reason. There are small lessons in every situation, but you need to have the awareness to acknowledge them. When their shelf life is through, they leave you, hopefully, stronger and wiser than when they found you. Still, the toughest thing to do is to let go of the person, the feeling, the thing, that you desire to keep around. It takes grace to let them go willingly, without a struggle.
Desire and attachment are two things that stand in the way of my true happiness. Acquiring or holding on to what I value most takes up vital energy that could be better spent allowing myself to be present and enjoy the moment. I get so anxious over the stress of losing or attaining that I don’t value what I already have. It prevents me from putting my trust and faith in the universe that I have all that I need and that it will always support me.
I’ve recognized my inability to put trust and faith in the universe and have been working to correct these shortcomings. In the past few months, I have been mentally preparing myself to let go. I have already let go of a job that did not serve me and my greatest potential. I’ve let go of a great place to live, but one that I have outgrown emotionally and spiritually. And now I am letting go of the past, letting go of my life in Philadelphia and beginning a new chapter, starting with an adventure in Australia.
To me, my adventure in Australia is my ultimate experiment in letting go. To much of people’s dismay, when I talk about my plans for Australia, I very adamantly state, “My plan is to have no plan.” After that statement, I get confused looks, clarifying questions, and phrases like “God bless you!” or “you’re so brave!” I guess people tend to plan large trips like this, but ultimately, I think I get the most out of traveling when I am planning on the fly. Concrete plans are being sorted and figured out while I’m here in Australia. Jobs, living arrangements, friends, they all have come into my life when I needed them.
One day, while I was relaxing on the beach in Hawaii (my pre-adventure vacation), I started to feel a bit lonely on my own. I put my head down for 5 minutes and when I got back up, I took my camera out of my bag to shoot a few pictures, and the guy next to me started chatting with me about cameras. The next thing I knew we went out for drinks and dinner. It was one of the best dates I’ve ever had!
The first day I arrived in Australia, I was anxiously anticipating my new life and worrying about what could go wrong. When I walked into my hostel room, I met a girl named Katie, and we became good friends over the few short days I stayed at the hostel. We walked around Cairns, partied and had lots of laughs along the way. After my hostel stay, I worked out a work exchange with a family living in Cairns. The husband and wife are travel agents who have helped me to book excursions during my stay in Cairns. They have even offered to keep in touch throughout my stay in Australia to help me book more side trips. Steve and I talk about politics every morning, and have chatted extensively about our adventures abroad. Maria is the nicest, caring mother who ensures I have clean clothes, and a well fed stomach each day. After the partying scene at the hostel, it was nice to come to a chill, relaxed, warm and welcoming home where I have my own room and a comfy bed.
Things have indeed worked themselves out nicely, and I hope that things will continue to work out in my favor. As someone I met on my travels told me, “Jump, and the net will be revealed.” Well, coming to Australia and leaving my old life behind was my “jump”, and the “net” is slowly being revealed as I continue on this adventure.
Have you ever had an Aha moment? A moment where time stands still, when an idea, a thought, a feeling hits you square in the gut or forehead. It’s enough to make you pay attention and listen. Little did I know it at the time, but this Aha moment was enough to change my life’s path at that exact moment, forever.
It was my first day at my first teaching job at an urban charter school in Philadelphia. The staff had gathered in the auditorium of Arcadia University to listen to a motivational speaker, Marlon Smith, to inspire us as we kicked off our weeklong professional development training. I arrived early to settle into the auditorium in order to calm my nerves, as I eagerly anticipated the day’s events. As the staff arrived I carefully watched as returning staff greeted each other with hugs and handshakes, sharing jokes and stories about their summers. I looked around, hoping to see a colleague I knew who had recommended me for this job. I sat for a minute or two, by myself just observing and taking in the atmosphere, when I saw my friend. He greeted his fellow 4th grade teachers as I came up to introduce myself.
As I introduced myself, our principal got up to speak and welcome everyone to the start of the school year, and invited everyone to take a seat. Marlon was introduced to the crowd and immediately I was engaged with his enthusiasm and excitement. I eagerly took notes on how to “live a life of purpose” thinking that I could apply his ideas to my life. It couldn’t hurt, I thought. As I took notes, Marlon spoke one phrase that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. I put the pencil down, I looked up and
Don’t live your life out of fear.
WHAM! Those words slapped me across the face. I felt my entire body tingle, as I wrote those words in bold letters across my notebook. It was as if the universe knew it was exactly what I needed to hear, yet I was uncertain as to why.
As Marlon continued on, the room came back to life, the fleeting Aha moment subsided, yet its impression on me lingered. I couldn’t get the phrase out of my head. I decided to revisit it at the end of the day when I returned home.
Those seven words were what inspired me to start living my Year of No Fear. It wasn’t until about five months after hearing those words that I started using the hashtag #yearofnofear and purposefully confronting my fear through my adventures. I took up white water kayaking, started backpacking solo, traveled solo, learned to sail, among other things that once scared me. Now it’s been about three years since hearing, don’t live your life out of fear, and I’ve continued to be inspired to confront my more psychological fears. That Aha moment has had a lasting impression on my life.
Have you ever had an Aha moment? How was it presented to you? Did you listen and make changes?
Once, I was asked to write the most beautiful 4 word story and my response was
“And so it begins…”
To me, those four words symbolize optimism, hope, joy, a sense of adventure and even a sense of mystery, the very things that are the most beautiful in life. But each new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end. Therefor let’s go back to the very start of the beginning.
And so it ended.
Today, my life as usual ended. After months of crying, deliberating, weighing my options, talking with my therapist, and listening to my intuition, I’ve decided I’m ready to be on a different path.
Today is the day I resigned from my job. I finally saw the forest through the trees. I had been unhappy for months. I was questioning why each day I made a conscious decision to go to a place I throughly despised. It was like being in an unhealthy relationship with an emotionally abusive boyfriend. Each day I would feel like I was required to do more and more to earn admiration and respect, yet the worse I felt the more I wanted to earn respect. But as I continued to look around at the teachers that I considered to be “respectable”, their faces gave away their feelings of exhaustion and frustration. Was this what I really wanted?
Today is the day, I realized I don’t want to live in Philadelphia any longer. Deep down I knew that I wanted to leave, but what I grappled with was the idea of leaving what I’ve known, what I’ve built, and the people I’ve loved for the past 11 years.
I first remember when I started exploring the city, as a suburban kid, thinking that Philadelphia was huge and magnificent with all of its wonders. I was enticed by its niche neighborhoods, unique local spots, and great opportunities for arts and culture, sometimes in the most unexpected places. The grittiness of the city was apparent in the attitude of its residents, especially its sports fans and that was something I took pride in. But today, Philadelphia has lost that splendor. I desire a new destination, a place I have been longing to be ever since I was 16.
Today is the day I took control of my life, I chose to be the adventurer and not the victim. For as I long as I can remember, I’ve been making excuses for why I’m not living the life that I truly desire. Today, I’m done making excuses. What I want is to live in a place where I am truly happy, can be my best self, with all of the things I need in order to sustain my happiness. I am ready to make sacrifices, to work hard, in order to achieve my goals. And I’m finally able to say with certainty what my goals are in my next phase in my life.
And so it begins.
A new chapter of my life begins with starting with an adventure of my lifetime. Piggybacking off of my Year of No Fear, I am about to do something that I have dreamt of doing since college, but never had the balls to do. I will be living and working in another country, Australia, for six to eight months on a work holiday visa.
When my friends and family have asked me about my plan for Australia, I simply state, “My plan is not to have a plan.” I have ruminated about this for the past year, and I have decided that Australia is a chance for me to listen to my inner voice, my intuition and learn to trust and follow it with devotion. Over the course of my lifetime, I’ve struggled to find and stand by my convictions. I’ve lacked confidence in my abilities and dreams and have been easily influenced and distracted by others. The past two years of my life, I’ve been on a soul searching mission, desperately trying to find my path and make the right choices to get there. Therefore, by going to Australia without a plan, I can engage in one of my deepest passions in life, traveling. I will be able to travel at my pace, on my time, without any external influences. A flexible itinerary will afford me the opportunity to be present in each moment and decide what is best in that moment. It will allow me to better understand the Soul of the World, be open to signs from the Universe directing me to my righteous path. I have found, the more open I am to opportunity, the more a plan unfolds before me without stress or effort.
And what happens after Australia? Well, that is also up in the air. I have ideas of moving out west, to Colorado, Arizona or Utah. Will I go back to teaching? I’m not sure. My career path, ultimately, is uncertain. I may also want to start settling down, thinking about a family, a house, building a more permanent life. Or my time in Australia might have the opposite effect and show me a path to build a life of traveling.What ever life has in store, I know that I want to embrace what comes next, the good, the bad, the emotionally crippling or the genuine bliss.
To go back those four beautiful words, invoking passion, inspiration, a sense of adventure, optimism, they maintain ambiguity but identify that something new is about to begin. I hope my trip to Australia does the same.