The other day I discovered Seth Godin, acclaimed author and entrepreneur. I immediately warmed to his calm, unobtrusive demeanor in interviews. I enjoy his succinct, non-redundant writing style. But most importantly I’m flabbergasted. Because he made me realize that I am a cog. Which, according to Seth, makes me the opposite of a linchpin.
I’ve lost a lot of weight recently. Tons and tons of emotional baggage that I’d gotten used to carrying around with me like a giant metal ball attached to my ankle. A ball that had grown and grown and grown so big – that one day I just couldn’t pull it along with me any longer. Not one more inch. It had become too heavy. I was stuck. Stuck in a place where I could do only one of two things: stay stuck forever or start shrinking that ball, or better yet, unleash myself from it all together.
I have a recurring dream: I am crouching on the cliff edge of a very high mountain, paralyzed by the proximity of the deep abyss that I cannot see but feel, scared out of my depth of losing my grip and falling. Curiously, one night I somehow knew in my dream that I was dreaming and even though I could not wake myself from it I could think about it while I was in it. So I thought to myself: Hang on, if I’m dreaming then nothing can really happen to the real-life me, right? So what if I just let go and see what happens? And so I did….
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what I wrote yesterday. About what I plan to do with my one wild and precious life. Especially the no regret part. I said I wanted to live so that I have nothing, no thing, to regret when my time eventually runs out. Thinking about it, there is a number of things I already I know I would regret if I didn’t do them. What if I did all of these for a start?
Two years ago I saw my dad – for the first time in 29 years. Our paths had separated when I was nine years old and my parents got a divorce. It was a sudden end to the life I had known. Before I realized my dad was gone. My mom, my siblings and I moved away to live with our new stepfather. I never heard from my dad again. It took me 29 years to find the courage to write to him.