I’m talking about meaningful risks – not “driving without my seat belt on,” but “pursuing my dream of writing a book,” for example, or getting married, or getting divorced, or whatever it is that feels impossible, but you know, deep down, is what you need if you are going to exist as your true self in this world.
At its essence, taking a meaningful risk means getting past the negative voice inside that simpers, “who are you kidding – you could never write a book. You’re too old/young/ordinary/[insert adjective of choice here].” Or, “stop feeling sorry for yourself, a lot of people are unhappy. Why should you be any different?” Be on the alert for this voice, because it’s often trying to talk you out of the thing you need most. And remember – that voice? It’s you. Ask yourself, “Why am I trying to keep myself from doing this?” I read somewhere once that the thing we’re most afraid of is our own power.
That first leap of faith is so terrifying, so we cover ourselves in band-aids – a night on the town, a vacation, a love affair. But inside, deep down, if we are honest with ourselves, we know that something just isn’t right.
“…And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” -Anais Nin
In my case, I knew I was miserable at my job, and felt this consistent yearning for something more. But I had no clear picture of what that “more” was, and no faith that life could provide it, whatever it was. Still, I couldn’t shake it. After a rejuvenating trip to Costa Rica, I saw an ad for a yoga studio called Tranquil Space; the name promised something I craved – tranquility – and something about the trip made me open to trying it.
But after one class, I backed off – in retrospect, I was probably afraid. It was another year before I went back, and enrolled in a series of classes for “newbies” like me. Taking the time to really learn about yoga deepened my connection to it, and I was hooked. Then, one day, I saw a flyer in the studio’s dressing room for a “creativity circle” – I was drawn to it, as I had been to the Tranquil Space flyer a year before, and signed up. It was this circle, or class, that introduced me to The Artist’s Way, which blasted open the doors to the creatively fulfilling life I live today.
It would still be another two years before I mustered the courage to leave my job, but my life changed color in those intervening years, and with every step I took — signing up for improv classes, beginning to perform, writing regularly in my journal, going solo on a yoga retreat — I felt more powerful, and more free. Finally, I was ready to take The Big Risk, and leave my job — without another one lined up. This isn’t something I recommend, per se, but in my case, my boss gave notice, and something inside me just said, “this is it.” I couldn’t stomach another reorg, and I just knew that I’d be ok freelancing for a while. Most people I know who’ve made a similar move spent a period of time moonlighting at their new gig before leaving the old one, and I think this is the path I’d recommend, but in my case, I had a strong enough network that I was able to quickly line up a few projects.
And a funny thing happened — leaving unleashed this flood of absolute joy inside me. I was giddy with anticipation, and freedom. I could do anything.
And I think this is how it works, this business of risk-taking: you strengthen that muscle – your courage, your faith – with every risk you take, no matter how big or small, so that the next time you hear that voice inside, urging you forward, you’re a little bit stronger, and acting is a little less terrifying. And the more you practice, the more natural it becomes – like climbing the stairs after months of exercise and realizing that you no longer get winded.
I thought freelancing was a way of biding my time — getting the distance and perspective I needed to figure out what I really wanted to do next. But I ended up loving it — loving the flexibility it allows me, to structure my days creatively, carving out time not just for work but also play, and art, and service. In retrospect I see that more than anything, what made me miserable at my job was feeling trapped in the routine; that’s anathema, it turns out, to my nature. I didn’t know that at the outset, but I knew I was drawn to things – yoga, travel, improv – that let me escape routine, including the routine of my brain and its churning over and over the events of the day.
Anais Nin is right. The day comes when holding back hurts more than taking action. The more you can prime yourself for that day, by reflecting on what you really want, and taking steps towards it – the richer it will be.
{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }
Amanda — you are truly an inspiration. I was thinking many of the same things last week while on vacation at the North Carolina beach.
You speak about taking risks, small and large, which reminded me about ‘kaizen,’ the Japanese principle of continuous improvement.
You might be interested in this book, One Small Step Can Change Your Life: The Kaizen Way. There was also an article in the New Yorker about how Toyota uses it: “…Instead of trying to throw long touchdown passes, as it were, Toyota moves down the field by means of short and steady gains….”
To begin pondering what risks I want to take, I sometimes start with the question: “What’s missing?”
Answers to follow. :D
Maggy
Maggy, thank you so much! You inspire me, too, you know – your verve and spirit. I will definitely check out ‘kaizen’…
Re: “What’s missing?” – I’ve been posing this question to myself for a few minutes now, and it definitely triggers a strong response. But I wish it didn’t feel so negative, you know? – as if something is always missing, versus there always being more to gain/absorb? How to balance “what’s missing” with gratitude, or with being content with the moment?
Hmm….
courageous post.
the idea of flexing intuition like a muscle–yes.
i keep leaping and nets keep appearing. it’s humbling and awesome and wonderful when the between becomes the choice itself…
When I’ve posed “What’s missing?” in the past, I’ve come up with: adult companionship/relationship, satisfying work, more time to do xx.
the big what’s missing for me right now is “more expression of my personal creativity” which looks like photography.
As a result of your wonderful post, I reached out to a woman who’s running a creative arts camp for 12-17 year old girls and asked her about possibilities for creating a photography class for them.
Kaizen, baby … one small e-mail.
Change is generally a good thing. I am always amazed at how one change directly leads to many other changes.
My big change has lead me to quit smoking, start running, and take on more responsibility around the house. It sounds simple but I much prefer my non-smoking, jogging, cooking/cleaning self to the one the critisized things from the couch. ;)
Like any good fan, I think all of your posts are for me! :) Insightful and inspiring. Luv it. I think there is a stumbling block for those of us who have taken risks and succeeded in some measured or dramatic way and who have then failed in an equally dramatic fashion, when it was least expected. My last leap of faith was more like a flailing Wallenda, but oh, how I stumbled and soared! ;) It sometimes takes a while to peel yourself off the pavement and get back to bidness. But failing is more important in ways than success. I’ve learned that my successes large and small are like brightly lit stars I can navigate by at night. And my failures are grand, stinking sacks of flaming poo that empty a room. And there is nothing inbetween. You learn a lot about yourself when you fail, and you’re ultimately a stronger person (or so I hear). And hell, at least you tried.
Your comment about the toxic inner voice reminded me of one of my favorite observations (which I long thought was from Nelson Mandela, but apparently not. eh.):
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
Risk Taking 101
When we – my now ex-husband, my two children who were then 6 and 4 – moved to DC in 1998 after many years living abroad, all I had to guide me was intuition and the word ‘yes’.
I learned how to choose ‘yes’ from ‘no’ in a class I took at Stanford’s Graduate School of Business.
As the spouse of a Knight fellow – I could take any class I could talk myself into, and I talked myself into a class called “Creativity in Business.”
The class was about how to get there from here, how to get to the next place from the not working place.
After living on someone else’s agenda for nine years, it was a relief to find the technology, so to speak, to create the next part.
Every week we had a new exercise, which started with “Be Awake” and included making mandalas, meditating, and for me, articulating what I feared most about divorcing my husband of 10 years.
Mostly, my fears were about money.
The Yes/No week was the most powerful, the week we had to make decisions ‘yes/no.’ No equivocating. Pick it. Yes, no.
Ironically, my ex – who took the class the semester afer I did – found the yes/no week the most powerful for him and the one in which he saw our marriage was a ‘no’. And I did, too.
Yes/No still guides me every day. Yes: sushi for dinner. No: not that color for the wall paint.
It’s so uncomplicated. Choosing ‘yes’ seems so simple, but it amazes me how we end up rationalizing it.
And being reasonable is always the least alive way of living.
Maggy, I love this story.
Yes/No reminds me of a class I took in college, The Literature of Community. The professor would print out a black-and-white statement based on the story we’d just read, something like, “The main character is a bigot.” You were to sit by the window if you agreed, and sit by the door if you disagreed. Sitting in the middle was discouraged – he emphasized the danger of not making a decision, citing all the people in Nazi Germany who were complicit by not taking a stand against Hitler. That class transformed me from a self-proclaimed pragmatist to the idealist I am today.
Amanda – Thank you for writing this post. Much of it resonated (the most self-helpy verb of all time) with me.
I have a story about risk-taking with my stand-up. It took me so much courage to get up that first time, over five years ago. At the time, I had just experienced some lifechanging major personal breakthroughs, and felt myself in a very risk-taking, why-not mode, but still I had to muster up the nerve.
I did it once, fittingly on my (re)birthday, and I loved it. But still, I only performed a handful of times over the next couple of years because I was scared and hesitant. Then after I graduated from school, I still waited and planned and held my breath. Until finally, I thought to myself, “you can’t wait anymore” and I wholeheartedly started and the momentum followed. And I’m glad I did.
I think it’s a continuous process and a journey, but there are moments where you just have to:
Leap and the net will appear.
~Zen saying