FOR ALL MY FELLOW ADVENTURERS who have chosen to take the leap into the unknown, know that you’re not alone with the inevitable terror felt in the void between what you’ve left and what will become.

Having lived in this space for quite some time now, I can tell you that while those moments of doubt don’t get any easier, the sheer fire hydrant of learning to be gained is unlike anything that could ever be gained through comfort.

My trick to get myself through it, off the back of my mission to live this second half of my life like an epic adventure movie, is to remind myself that no great adventure ever came from comfort and that the worst days are a critical part of any movie, but are always followed by better days.  In these moments I [try to] instead focus on what my fears tell me about my long-held beliefs and perceived needs, and then challenge – even forcefully adapt – those beliefs/needs to experience a different outcome (I’ve had some unbelievable results from this, suggesting that my brainOS had been unknowingly operating on outdated software in dire need of a systems overhaul!).

The following Parable was sent to me by a delightfully intelligent Canadian friend who himself had received it to help with his journey through the void.

I hope it clicks with you as much as it did with us.

Finally, these moments are tough and very real – I would have hit the life-eject button a number of times through this period.  If you ever feel that way, don’t suffer in silence – please do connect for a chat.  Happy to share the tactics I’ve learned and/or a listening ear.  #YoureNotAlone

Go well, Adventurer and be proud of your courage to experience everything it means to be human. 

The Trapeze Parable

by Danaan Parry

Listen on YouTube (disregard the weird music lol)

Sometimes I feel that my life is a series of trapeze swings.
I’m either hanging on to a trapeze bar swinging along or, for a few moments in my life, I’m hurtling across space in between trapeze bars.

Most of the time, I spend my life hanging on for dear life to my trapeze-bar-of-the-moment.  It carries me along at a certain steady rate of swing and I have the feeling that I’m in control of my life.

I know most of the right questions and even some of the answers.

But every once in a while, as I’m merrily swinging along, I look out ahead of me into the distance and what do I see? I see another trapeze bar swinging toward me. It’s empty and I know that this new trapeze bar has my name on it. It is my next step, my growth, my aliveness coming to get me. In my heart of hearts, I know that for me to grow, I must release my grip on this present, well-known bar and move to the new one.

Each time it happens to me I hope that I won’t have to let go of my old bar completely before I grab the new one. But, I know that I must totally release my grasp on my old bar and hurtle across space before I can grab onto the new bar.

Each time, I am filled with terror. It doesn’t matter that in all my previous hurtles across the void of unknowing I have always made it. Each time I am afraid that I will miss, that I will be crushed on unseen rocks in the bottomless chasm between bars.

I do it anyway. Perhaps this is the essence of what the mystics call the faith experience. No guarantees, no net, no insurance policy, but you do it anyway because to keep hanging on to that old bar is no longer an alternative.

It’s called “transition.” I have come to believe that this transition is the only place that real change occurs. I mean real change, not the pseudo-change that only lasts until the next time my old buttons get punched.

I have noticed that, in our culture, this transition zone is looked upon as a “no-thing,” a no-place between places. Sure, the old trapeze bar was real, and that new one coming towards me, I hope that’s real, too. But the void in between? Is that just a scary, confusing, disorienting nowhere that must be gotten through as fast and as unconsciously as possible?

NO! What a wasted opportunity that would be. I have a sneaking suspicion that the transition zone is real, and the bars are illusions we dream up to avoid real change, the real growth.

Whether or not my hunch is true, it remains that the transition zones in our lives are incredibly rich places. They should be honored, even savored. Yes, with all the pain and fear and feelings of being out of control that can accompany transitions, they are still the most alive, most growth-filled, passionate, expansive moments in our lives.

So, transformation of fear may have nothing to do with making fear go away, but rather with giving ourselves permission to “hang out” in the transition between trapezes.

Transforming our need to grab that new bar, any bar, is allowing ourselves to dwell in the only place where real change happens.

It can be terrifying. It can also be enlightening in the true sense of the word. Hurtling through the void, we just may learn how to fly.