So last week, I leaped.
After weeks of thinking about it, wondering if I still had it, and then procratsinating some more, I whatthehecked myself and jumped into the sizzling crackling fire of change. If there is one thing I have noticed about myself in the last few years is that I continuously suprise myself in who i think I am turning out to be. Several years ago, had I been asked who I want to be when I grew up, the answer would have been something very focused- some plan, a dream. Ask me now and I might just dreamily shrug, content to let the boat carrying me (and Nadi) bob in the waters of uncertainty for a while before I suddenly see an island I like and want to explore and then all of a sudden, I am a woman with a mission.
The thing about comfort zones is that they are so…comfortable. The “forced” routine lulls you, calms you, (and yes of course it irritates you too sometimes) but mostly the gentle rocking motion of la la la soothes you into not needing to go out there to pick up all those agendas of the yesteryears. Until you run face first into something you were meant to be doing and all the fire comes surging back into you. All the words, the detremination come back tumbling from attic of one’s dreams and suddenly a path appears, alongside, and you have no excuse but to…leap. So I leapt.