It’s not that things were miserable, or that I didn’t love the people (because I do) or that I was stagnant (because I was still learning).
The reason I quit my job: Because my soul was nudging me. Something in me is calling me to be more. To share more. To create more. To live authentically. On purpose. To stop playing small and live the life of my own creating. And this, to me, means devoting my full attention to my art and to painting workshops.
So now what? I made it through what felt like the hardest part: Telling everyone (and in my mind, “letting everyone down”). I worked through my last weeks and tied up as many loose ends as I could. Suddenly my days are open-ended. All possibilities exist. And I feel like I did a few years ago when I went hang-gliding over the hills of Georgia. The small plane that pulled us up into the air by rope suddenly “cut the cord” to release the glider–what followed was a moment of mid-air suspension and sheer terror as my stomach nearly jumped out of my body. Okay, that might be exaggerating a little, but I am having moments of panic interlaced with feelings of pure joy and excitement. The first night after my last day at work I had dreams of drowning. The second night I had dreams of planes crashing because they didn’t have any wings.
A wise friend suggested–when I told her I was “taking the leap”–to instead use the phrase “I am taking flight.” I like that, because it doesn’t have the sense of urgent panic but rather suggests spreading one’s wings and soaring. Riding the wind and letting one’s natural sense of direction lead the way. It doesn’t feel as haphazard.
So here we go. In process painting I often encourage painters to take risks. I feel that now, more than ever, I am living my talk. Because life really is like a painting. One stroke at a time. All possibilities open. Awaiting our discovery.
Time to fly!