I used to have this recurring dream where, I would get catapulted out into space and almost instantly start to descend. Right before I hit the sidewalk, I would wake up. I haven’t had this dream for quite a while. I’m still not sure I ever knew what it meant. The concept of falling; we fall in love, we fall off our bike, we fall for bullshit, we fall short of someone’s expectations. We just fall. People choose to jump off of buildings to end their lives, as dark as that may be, it happens. The feeling of when we physically fall, or fall in love is practically identical. Both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Butterflies and nausea all at once. Fear and acceptance.
But when we make the choice to “jump ship”, in whatever metaphorical sense we decide, we always have the choice. It is ours to make. It is a bit like falling, after all, the uncertainty that comes with making a radical change in our lives leaves our tummies turning; the excitement is just as real. We are never sure exactly where we will land, while we fall into place in our lives. It is good, it is hard, its sporadic and it is rewarding in the end. The fear will eventually subside and acceptance of ones fate is allowed room to breathe. When the pain of not changing is exceeded by the pain of actually changing, the change will manifest itself and take shape.
This is how I fall.