2017 in One Word OR SOTC 265/365

I started a new story. I spoke up for what I need. I let it go.  I listened with empathy. I had hard conversations. I found courage to try again. I asked for help. I offered help. I tried something new. I shared joy. I listened to my feelings. I voiced my feelings. I expressed my feelings. I acknowledged my mistakes. I forgave others. I forgave myself. I re-defined my boundaries. I lived in my integrity.

I chose

You Cannot Predict the Landing

(c) Photos by Gina

 

Leap.

Whether creek or canyon, the invitation is there.

Dare greatly and leap.

You might stick the landing; we like a solid landing, don't we? But--you might slip and skin your knees. Or roll an ankle. Or tumble completely and end up with road rash.

Leap anyway.

And when you crash and burn, know that it's okay to just sit there on the ground for a bit. To take a few moments and catch the breath that's been knocked out of your lungs. Assess the pain. Ask for ice. Recognize that something happened in the air that changed the course of the landing; you could learn from that.

...But wouldn't you know it, you still made it across. The landing doesn't negate the leap. Are you able to feel the sting of the abrasion and still know the joy of the jump? ...Sometimes that's the hardest part.

Stand back up. Brush the debris from your arms and legs. Gently put some weight back on the ankle. Walk slowly over the soft trail--admire the scenery for a bit while the road rash heals.

Up ahead at some point, there will be an invitation to leap again. Go ahead; acknowledge your scars. They're part of what's gotten you to this point. But then, put a hand to your chest and feel the strong beat of your heart. That's really what's gotten you to this point. And it's the only thing that counts moving forward.

Take your running start to its rhythm.

And leap.