flow

To be in "flow" sounds like some sort of flowery state of being-something professed by self-help gurus, suggesting that people follow their passion and pursue their destiny. Certainly the IDEA of flow sounds pleasant and simple.... but is it really as easy as that? As a child, doing what you love seems to come so naturally. It is as simple as putting on a soccer uniform or tickling the keys of a piano--eerily free of self-doubt and subsequent sabotage. Nothing to remind you of the risk of failure. As an adult, it seems as though doing what I love is no longer quite so risk-free. After having moderate amounts of success throughout my school career and now as a working professional, I have grown comfortable with the feeling of being "good" at what I do. I find a certain ease in resting assured my efforts will be applauded...with either a pay check or pat on the back. In a way, I feel safe. Safe in knowing that what i do is not connected to me. It is not an extension of my heart, the way that my true passion, writing is. I'd be willing to bet there are more people out there that find safety behind the shield of doing what gets them by, rather than what they're passionate about. Pursuing your passion is taking a risk-- it's leaving the guarantee of today in search of the pleasure of tomorrow. Stepping away from your safety net and jumping off the high dive of adult life into the pool of passion is a little bit like losing your virginity. It's a time when you stand metaphorically naked, hoping that others see and validate your efforts--showing you that indeed you ARE as good as you had thought. Pursuing what you love to do is like stepping out on a limb and hoping the branch doesnt snap below your footing and leave you crashing down towards the eons of self-doubt you've backlogged over the years. Its giving it a shot, doing your best and being entirely vulnerable in the process. Vulnerability seems to be a paralizing fear for may of us. What if I'm not as good as i thought? What if no one sees value in what i do? What if i just don't cut it? And on and on, until you come to the ultimate conclusion of how to avoid all of those what-if's....What if I just don't ever try. So there we sit. In the comfort of never failing. In the comfort of never being naked. Always covered up and buttoned in security. But does there ever come a point when the wardrobe just seems to tight? What will it take for us to look in the mirror and shed our starched garments for the curve of sensual vulnerability? I don't know. But I'm going to find out. One blog at a time.