A little over a year ago I wrote my first blog, Jumping into the void, giving expression to what I experienced as I took that first exhilarating jump into the space where my dreams lived. Now, fourteen months later, I am able to express what it feels like having taken the plunge into an experience that remains ever-evolving.
Despite knowing that I had started a new section of an amazing journey, I could not have been sure that I would eventually be able to look back at what I had done, amazed at how I seemingly only needed courage and a heart filled with passion and purpose to make my way through the void into my dreams. Do I make this sound easy? I hope not, because it wasn’t.
I must admit that the exhilaration of jumping into this particular void was definitely akin to what I suspect extreme sportsmen and women experience when they dare to go where they hope their bodies can take them. And they have as little certainty about surviving their crazy antics as I had. But the main thing that jumping into the void the way I did has in common with what extreme sportsmen and women do, is that the actions of making the decision, trusting that sense of knowing and following one’s gut feeling, result in a sense of being fully alive.
In the year to follow the massive change I decided to make by leaving the legal profession behind and putting all my efforts towards practising as a hypnotherapist, I learned that there were a lot of things I had held onto that I certainly did not need. Instead of keeping me safe, these things kept me imprisoned. I had to work to pay for things that helped me cope with my stress levels, while all I needed to do was to stop the stress of living a life outside of what I was born to do. This, of course, was easier said than done. The beautiful ship of my dreams sat on the docks, ready to be launched. And as I jumped into the void, its chains fell away and my ship was launched into the deep waters waiting to receive its buoyant determination to conquer the seas of life outside the safety of the harbour where that dream ship had been built.
At the time of that first blog, I wrote about the fact that if one’s passion can shape one’s intention clearly, the resultant exhilaration produces a state of mind that pushes out all fear, because in the end all will be well. And so it was. I had set a very clear intention, but there was no way to predict how things would turn out. As that ship hit the water, the waves of turmoil excitedly splashed around, making space for this new presence. And so the ship got wet, as it was supposed to, and wobbled around quite a lot while working to gain balance, as it was equipped to do. But sitting inside it during the launch, meant having to cling tightly to the intention I had set and which had designed and forged my ship, biding my time as I waited for the waters to settle, first rocking and then lovingly supporting and holding steady a new chance at life on the wild seas out there …
The void is in fact a beautiful place, filled with wonderful opportunities. But it does not tolerate holding back and there is no place for fear. The tools that become available in the void are brand new and are forged in the moment of need. As one is hurtling deeper down into the void, opportunities shy away from fear and a lack of trust, in oneself and in life, while doors swing open to a positive attitude and determined thinking allowing nothing other than complete trust as one quickly learns to accept that the challenges of the void can take on the proportions of a meteoric rock shower at times. The storm abates only in the presence of calm and clear intent.
It is a good thing that I discovered right at the beginning that the very act of jumping into the void is an act of creation which seemingly produces what feels very much like tiles under one’s feet. As I learned that I could trust that I would always have what I require to move forward, even though I would almost always only be able to recognise this after the fact, I started feeling completely safe, no longer bothered by the past and unconcerned with the future. I learned that living the present moment to the absolute maximum would automatically create the tomorrow I would like to live when it becomes the now. Of course while figuring out how the tools work and wildly latching onto every opportunity that initially appears so perfect, one breaks a nail here and there. The void is not dreamland, it is life; a vortex where miracles become a certainty, but it has its share of dead ends. Dead ends in the void are sign posts to hidden doors in the rock face that one would not have gone looking for. As with all things, when lived fully, even the moments filled with pain and sorrow can be healed by the warmth of tears as one learns to embrace the heartache of loss that is part of living and learning, trusting that what has to be left behind had a purpose and helped to send one forward.
I am eternally grateful that when I jumped, the time was exactly right. And that somehow, I knew that.