Have you ever had that moment in life where you’re just playing it safe? Straddling the fence of existence, not quite sure you’re ready to jump down into the mud and gunk that is between you and the luscious field of your dream on the other side?
That’s been me for about six years now. Straddling that fence. Occasionally letting my foot touch the ground, but yanking it right back up when it sank just the tiniest bit into the mud of starting over. I could see that field across that line of muck. It’s beautiful. Wildflowers dotting green grass. Horses (because I love horses) ambling along, grazing. Puppies (because I love puppies) frolicking, and a big old oak tree I can lean against or climb, as I write and read my way through the day.
I can’t say I was happy straddling that fence. But it was less stressful than the mucky ground below me. I wasn’t happy, but I was content not being covered in mud.
Until I wasn’t.
And if all of that analogy was a little over the top for you, I’ll break it down like this. It became quite clear recently that it’s time to do the thing or not do the thing. It’s time to go hard or go home. Or, as the old saying goes, it’s time for me to shit or get off the pot.
Now, I’m a little hesitant writing this, because if you’ve been following for a while, this isn’t the first time I’ve written a similar post. I’ve written a few. But in each case, I was trying to will myself to hop off that fence.
This time is different. I’m coming to you already ankle deep in the mud and ready to do this thing.
Or fail trying.
(Except now all I’m imagining is Artax in the quicksand in The Neverending Story, and now I’m depressed. I swear that movie scarred an entire generation with that scene.)
Anyhow, back to mud and fences.
Hopefully, I’ll see you on the other side.
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