Take that leap off that mountain...

because in case you haven't noticed, that mountain is crumbling beneath the weight of your dreams anyways. What's the worst that could happen? A semi-trite and seemingly overused phrase, but it has always been a mainstay of my sometimes reckless decision making. Who wrote the rules of life in the first place? That's what I would like to know. And yet, we follow those rules blindly holding tight to the slippery chains of belief systems and social mores that tend to bind us and drag us down instead of guiding us to newfound joys. I must admit my life has read more like a choose-you-own-adventure book rather than a well written novel with strict plot momentum and smooth chapter flow. And yet even I have hesitated on more than one occasion to take that leap from the very mountain I thought I was intended to scale and settle upon. Climb the mountain I did but it wasn't until I reached its peak that I realized the journey still had more to offer. Reaching the summit of your mountain does not mean you are done, it lends to the idea that now you must find your way off that mountain to continue the search--and no, you cannot take the easy road down the opposite side of the mountain. The search for peace, for joy, for love, for fulfillment...it mustn't simply end once you've reached what was the original goal. It can't be all there is. I refuse to believe life is simply a chain of events tied together by chance checkpoints that lead you to some overall determination of success, some flag waving in the air letting you know you've made it and you can rest now. I for one, cannot rest. Every day should play out like an unplanned hike through uncharted territory without a map and without clear expectations. Each day can be a brief surge of emotion and excitement. And it should be this way. If it is not, then you must urge yourself to take that leap off that mountain and bravely seek out the next mountain in your path. The one you've relied on will seem weaker over time, crumbling little by little under the heavy anticipation of the dreams you've hushed away. Life may attempt to hold you there, it may drive you to complacency with the trek you've just taken, but you cannot let it keep you there. The everyday hamster wheel will exhaust the mind and will ultimately dim your soul into submission to this notion of satisfaction and completion. But what if that's not all there is, what if each day is really a dare to conquer your fears, to take a different turn, to empower your soul, to seek out new pieces of you that you may have lost through age and time or perhaps never even knew existed under the comfortable facade of normalcy and social acceptance. Thomas cleary understood the battle between life and death in writing "Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light". He understood the juxtaposition of the dichotomous yet somehow intricately woven concepts of life and death. He knew, perhaps too late, that time is limited and death, although unavoidable, can be met with peace and calm if and only if you reach it with a lifetime behind you filled with challenged ‘what ifs’ and one devoid of regret. So leap I will, against the echoing whispers reminding me of my incessant fear of heights, against the murmurs of social standards and a new joy will certainly be found during my flight to the next mountain on my journey. And as I look back I'll notice the mountain I left behind is still there, smaller than I'd imagined, less rocky than I'd believed and quite frankly not nearly as safe as I'd presumed. After all, what's the worst that could happen?