On Taking Risks & Letting Go

 

It was a dream, Oregon. We talked about its sacred space, endlessly for years. We swooned over how we wanted to move there, how our honeymoon swept us away, and about how the people there were our kind of people. We told anyone who would listen with stars twinkling in our eyes. Yet, our roots didn’t replant themselves there easily. Each time we tried to take action our feet stood steadfast; firmly planted in Nebraska soil. The conversation about moving always seemed to fade quickly from our mouths. Despite a clear vision and the coast calling us home like street lights beckoning the evening… we stayed. How could it be that our hearts yearned so deeply for something yet our bodies fussed to follow?

Fear. 

Unbeknownst to us, it engrossed our decisions. It held my husband and I captive. Fear is a tricky thing, ya know? We don’t always see it.  Sometimes it looks like logic, maybe even a close friend. It’s the voice in our head that is meant to keep us safe. It’s the fight or flight response our bodies hold when something significant is on the brink. Fear is the trigger that helps us take calculated risks. It’s also the response that can keep holding us back from those day dreams. It can manifest in illness, not taking a promotion or staying in an unhealthy cycle. Fear has a way of creeping in and holding us hostage while leading us to believe we are making the safest, best decision.

What happens when we let go of fear?

THIS.  Just a few short weeks after the birth of our sweet son, we let go of our tightly enmeshed fear, possessions, and headed for the coast. It took more courage than we felt we could muster, really. It felt like a combination of our souls bursting for joy, the reminiscent feeling you get from a well read book, and sheer terror. Our small rickety Uhaul trailer, pets, and tiny infant were all bundled together tightly. It was difficult to distinguish where adventure began and insanity ended. This was it. This was everything; our whole lives were crammed into our Kia Sportage. Freedom felt oddly similar to swimming. There’s this weightless sort of pulse throughout your body, a stand still in time with nothing weighing you down. We knew where we were going in only the most general way. There’s a thrill in it, defying fear, jumping.

Our dream came true when we let go of fear, fully embraced minimalism, and accepted our vision. We took the risk. There’s a beauty in that we feel monotony in this space now. Our surroundings are becoming so familiar that we call this place home. The mountains and ocean speak to us like a long lost friend, rather than a distant relative. When I hear music from our honeymoon playlist I’ve replaced longing with joy.

 

 

 

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