"I have gone on a few good test runs. I have hovered at the end of this runway, on the lip of this nest, on the edge of this canyon. I have flown little circles above it. Dipped a wing beyond it."
And, now – now I am flying. Early mornings of free-falling-bliss deep into the canyon – swirling down and then back up into the clouds high, high, above – twirling noon-time, heart light-and-free, into afternoons of play-fights and peaceful resting by that aqua blue pond, just beyond, the overhang, that yesterday I discovered, until I find myself lazily zig-zagging my evening back up to my nest in the cliff-face, talons sinking into cool earth like the roots of an old tree, wings ready for tomorrow's new foray.
Two years and two months ago I wrote the first paragraph.
The second paragraph was last weekend.
This learning to fly is slow like that. Not days, not weeks, not even months-long. Years-long. Multiple years-long learning.
More than two years to begin to get the hang of a thing is an excruciatingly long time for someone who loves to just throw herself off the cliff’s edge into the wind of something new and take chances as to where and how she lands.
Yet there is something so deeply satisfying about this years-long lift-off.
I am learning that I can be fully present, embodied, and in-love with a thing, and it can be sustainable. It does not need to take over my life. It does not need to be at a cost to my foundation, or any other area of my life.
It can grow deeper roots and become sturdier, as I fly higher and wilder. I can be both more-safe and more-free.
All of you artists out there will understand the seeming impossibility of what I am writing. You lovers too. You passionate ones who can easily be swept into a vortex of creative / romantic / sexual / intellectual / spiritual bliss, and wake up a few months later with a love-hang-over; the rest of your life in shambles.
But, man, is the fire good. Am I right?
Those of you who know, will know why this having the intensity without the collateral damage is blowing my F-ing mind.
I have been practising this impossible concept, intentionally, in my legal work since the fall of 2015 – an area of my life where there is passion and creativity, but not quite as much as some other areas, like writing poetic philosophy, creating magical transformative experiences for people, and of course, romantic love.
I still wobble out of balance sometimes with my legal work. I still get a little “too into it” on occasion and let my home, health and relationships tremble. But I always bring it back into balance before there is true destruction of anything that matters to me.
I can’t say I’ve mastered this practice, but I now have some facility. I am showing up most days to my legal work with full intensity and leaving at the end of the work day with ample time and energy to tend to the foundation of my life, with care.
The beginning of this month I met a guy who fits the vision I have for a romantic partner, pretty well perfectly. He is sweet and passionate and wild and stable, and most importantly, a really good cook (kidding, the most important part is he’s committed to showing up – the cooking is an awesome bonus).
So, of course, there is a part of me that is freaked out that I will fall in love head-over-heels and destroy the other parts of my life that are currently working just swell. But a bigger part of me trusts.
He’s showing up in my life, because I am ready.
The past month I have proven to myself that I am. I am allowing myself to fall in love, and it is amazing. Yet I am so fiercely protective of my foundation, and what I have built with my commitment to my legal work, that those areas of my life have not suffered.
Intensity + Responsibility = Flying Without Crash Landings.
I am actually flying most days now. In-love in real-time in my real life. It is astounding. And bone-deep nourishing. Ecstasy woven into the messiness of every day life.
So, I’m going to keep at it. This years-long training is by no means over. I’m no expert at flying yet. There are higher highs I want to hit. Darker depths I want to dance with. Wild-wave-caverns I want to weave through. Wind tunnels I want to release myself into.
There are levels of ecstasy, freedom and peace I have not yet allowed myself, because I am not ready to enjoy them responsibly. And the cost of me not doing so is just too high a cost to bear when I love the life I am creating as much as I now do.
The bliss of writing these next books that live in me and owning a full-fledged Write Your Soul Story business that shares my philosophy with the world in both intellectual and experiential ways, are two things I have not yet been ready to embrace sustainably. And of course, I have only begun to scratch the surface of the depths of intimacy, passion and love that are available to me to surrender to in romantic partnership.
That I become the woman who can show up to each of these things with the full intensity of her passion, without destroying her foundation or any other area of her life – is a transformation I am committed to at the level of soul.
I am devoted. I am becoming her. She will be. I have already decided.
And so, I continue to practise this expansion. Slowly. Intentionally. And with buckets more patience than is comfortable.
I will practice this skill until I master it. And then I will tweak it and finesse it some more – until the day comes when I can shoot across the sky of my life like a comet, blazing fireworks from my eyes, creating magick with my words, roaring ferociously and dancing wildly with the creatures in the darkest depths of the forest – and still show up to Court on Monday, with the laundry done, unperturbed.