“You know how difficult it was for you to make the decision to drop everything and come here to walk the Road to Santiago in search of a sword. But this was different only because you were a prisoner of the past. You had been defeated before, and you were afraid it would happen again. You had already achieved things, and you were afraid you might lose them. But at the same time, something stronger than any of that prevailed: the desire to find your sword. So you decided to take the risk.”
– The Pilgrimage, Paulo Coelho
I’ve blogged about fear and about doing things in spite of that fear, and after being here in the great city of New York for a little over a month, I am still wrestling with being here.
Here are some things I miss:
Look at that face.
These lads. Among others.
This awesome lake. Where it is not cold.
ALL OF THIS FOOD.
And I exchanged that for this…
This man is Tebow-ing some trash. Or crying. I choose crying. Cause NYC is DIRTY, son. Dirty.
There are so many ways the city is different, and so unlike what I am used to. I am not in love with NYC (yet?), and that’s okay.
After all, I am still grieving what I have left. I came here running after a new dream, and it is hard letting go of one you held onto for so long. The death of a future you had once invested so much in, following the new future where it calls. Grief is almost always for the mourner’s loss.
“I’m afraid,” said Ender quietly. “But I’ll go with you.”
“Tell me again,” said Graff.
“It’s what I was born for, isn’t it? If I don’t go, why am I alive?”
“Not good enough,” said Graff.
“I don’t want to go,” said Ender. “But I will.”
Graff nodded.
– Ender’s Game, Orson Scott Card
A shared story is one that can help someone find a piece of humanity to relate to, so I share my story. How about you? When have you felt the death of one dream in following another? Or felt afraid to go where you were called?
What? Here? Now? 