Every few months, I get the alumni magazine from my college. I usually glance through the class notes to see if there\u2019s anyone I remember who has gotten mentioned.<\/p>\n
Most of the entries are a bit, well, dull, saying things like, \u201cNow retired after 30 years teaching in the same school\u201d or \u201cJust retired from 40 years at the bank.\u201d<\/p>\n
Apparently, my fellow college students were big on staying put in one place.<\/p>\n
One time, however, an entry caught my eye. It read, \u201cRetired after thirty-five years as a social worker and probation officer. He now spends his time as a traveler in Africa and is a full-time freelance outdoors writer.\u201d<\/p>\n
I never knew the man so described, but I wanted to.I wanted to know how he kept his adventurous soul alive for such a long time while toiling away in Cook County Illinois.<\/p>\n
Leaving a familiar situation is a challenge that comes to all of us\u2014sometimes several times throughout our life.<\/p>\n
I once received email from a woman who had spent her life as a teacher. She had stuck with it long after the satisfaction had gone. Now she was ready, she said, to do something completely different.<\/p>\n
However, she wasn\u2019t at all certain what the new path should be. That happens, of course, when we become entrenched in a situation or relationship for so long that we forget that we have options.<\/p>\n
I made several suggestions about how she could begin exploring. I heard from her again after about ten days and she was making remarkable headway. She\u2019d even listed all of her teaching books on eBay\u2014burning her bridges she said.<\/p>\n
Imagine my amazement when I opened her subsequent email which was obviously written in a moment of great panic. \u201cI only have another week to sign my teaching contract,\u201d it read. \u201cShould I sign it?\u201d<\/p>\n
I was flabbergasted and promptly replied that I didn\u2019t have the answer to her question. I suggested, however, that it might be a temporary lapse on her part.<\/p>\n
Then I said, \u201cSo how are you going to tell your grandchildren that you once had an opportunity to create a truly adventurous life and you chickened out?\u201d<\/p>\n
The moment I typed that question, I realized at a very deep level, how our acts of self-doubt don\u2019t just impact our own lives, but have a profound ripple effect. Take the low road and you\u2019ll have a procession behind you.<\/p>\n
What kind of legacy is that?<\/p>\n
We might tell ourselves that staying in a stultifying relationship isn\u2019t really so bad or having a job that robs us of any creative enthusiasm is fine for now, but every day that we hang on we are losing precious time that could be spent building something bold and beautiful.<\/p>\n
On the other hand, our acts of courage beget courage in others as well. I\u2019m guessing that my former college classmate will inspire all sorts of people to create their own version of a safari.<\/p>\n
While letting go can seem terrifying, think of the times you\u2019ve done so and found yourself in a better place. It\u2019s no use tricking yourself into thinking that you\u2019ll make things better while staying in the bad situation, however. Doesn\u2019t work that way.<\/p>\n
As long as you hang on, you can\u2019t move on.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Every few months, I get the alumni magazine from my college. I usually glance through the class notes to see if there\u2019s anyone I remember who has gotten mentioned. Most of the entries are a bit, well, dull, saying things like, \u201cNow retired after 30 years teaching in the same school\u201d or \u201cJust retired from…<\/p>\n