Thankfully, I wasn’t always this heady.
When I was eighteen, I didn’t ask myself if going to the casino was likely to further my search for purpose. No, in any given moment, I did whatever seemed like more fun. Casino in the afternoon? Sure. Volleyball game at midnight? See you then. How about we grab some cigars on the way, then hit the casino, and join volleyball at midnight? Great plan.
I took action, then found the right next action. I was instinctual. Though, as life does, I earned some gnarly scars (and some wisdom) for my naïveté. Seventeen years later, I’m an adult with my own set of Gremlin rules. I worry about sleeping more than eight hours. I worry about being on time. I worry about my cat’s weight. Often, I worry far too much about what could happen, instead of making things happen and figuring out what to do next.
For weeks now, I’ve been in life block; it’s like writer’s block but applied to everything you do. Too much perfectionism, not enough trust. Too much adulting, not enough teenaging.
I’m not a fortune teller. Neither are you. But we must make the leap of faith anyway, trusting that our instincts, a little more seasoned now, are capable of delivering us to the other side no matter what happens while we’re up in the air.
To livin’ a life we love,
Ryan Fightmaster, MD
