Losing Sight of Shore

This continues to be the year of things turning out differently than I had thought they would. No part of my life has been left untouched by change. Relationally, professionally, spiritually, physically, emotionally, socially, creatively - all of it has changed; in more than a few ways significantly changed. There are times I almost don’t recognize myself.

Last fall, I was at my usual brooding spot, watching the waves roll in. The forthcoming new position at the Community Foundation was on my mind, and I was thinking through whether I should pivot my career and shift from freelance back to a bonafide job. As I weighed the pros and cons, I noticed how, on that side of the isle, the wind-ripples on the surface were going in the opposite direction from the waves. I had always compared freelance work to surfing, each project the next caught wave. But surfing can only ever bring you back to shore. It’s fun but you can’t really go anywhere. If you catch the wind, though, you can sail around the world. I had my answer.

The only thing is, to voyage in that way means you have to lose sight of shore. Put some open water between you and what’s familiar, what’s safe. You have to get out of the harbor, find shelter someplace new, become a stranger in a strange land for a while. It’s the only way to access all the beauty and loneliness and wonder and difficulty and joy and pain of the journey.

I had dreams for my studio. I was hoping - and working - to grow it into a thriving revenue stream, where I could let my creativity roam and just explore and make stuff. Now I’m sailing away from that shore. I’m taking a few things with me, but most of the equipment is moving to new homes. Part of growth, of maturing is recognizing when something has run its course, when the winds have shifted and it’s time to leave the harbor.

I’ll keep you posted on where I next drop anchor.

PB