The last few weeks of my life have been chaotic to say the least. Graduation, quitting jobs, new job searches, finishing my novel: it’s been a whirling dervish. There are times when I find myself clinging to the wall, scrabbling to find some solid ground beneath my feet. It’s motion sickness on dry land, the world spinning round though I find myself standing still.
There are times in life where it’s impossible to predict the future (except for Charles Xavier and few other notable exceptions). Most of the times we realize these limitations and are fine with them. We move forward in utter darkness but we still hope for the best. Other times, the idea that we are in darkness is so utterly suffocating that we can’t take that first step, petrified that instead of solid ground it will be an abyss beneath our feet. It’s times like these that we can find ourselves stagnating, caught in the stage between rather than pursue the unreliable future that is transition.
As it is, we don’t have much of a choice. What we do have is hip-cocking, sweetly-smirking, devil-may-care attitude. If we’re going to jump of a cliff, might as well do it with a bright grin and a running start. With all the brave assuredness of a hero and the world-narrowing focus of a villain, we push away from the wall, close our eyes, and leap.
Even if we crash-land, it will be a hell of a fall.