I’ve been standing on the edge of a precipice ready to leap. Ready to launch a business. Trained, experienced, planned, ready to go. Yep, ready to leap. Anytime now. It’s been so long it’s become a thing unto itself. Been parked here for a few years. Lots of supportive imagery about soaring. But at the core ... the image of leaping off a cliff makes me viscerally clench.
Time for a new metaphor.
One that makes me eager to dive in.
And then I remember. How silly of me to have ever forgotten.
River as metaphor. Always.
Same level of commitment, much gentler entry.
Shoving off from the beach, the friction of the gravel giving way to ease. Turning into the current, flowing easily. Committed to the journey. Reading the water ahead, listening to it, respecting it. Calling commands and ruddering with skill and finesse, the crew providing power to navigate obstacles and turn up the joy. Together, we find the most fun route. Pirouetting often, because sometimes I can’t tell my right from my left. At times a gentle flow, relaxing and serene; other times riding such raw power yelling "waaa-hooo!" and grinning ear to ear. Only vary rarely getting beat up. Finding my comfort zone for the level of risk I like. And at the end of the day, knowing I gave my crew an experience of joy, exuberance, occasionally appreciation of beauty and fun in the midst of bad weather, and always an expansion of what they believe themselves capable of.
So let’s play with that metaphor. I have MUCH better associations with gently shoving off at the put-in than the gut-clenching lunacy of leaping off a cliff. Time to rekindle the whitewater river guide inside...