I'm lucky professionally to be doing what I love, and lucky also that it terrifies me every day.
I caught this snippet from a fascinating interview on Off Camera with Sam Jones. I'm paraphrasing the quote as I heard it in passing. But it arrested me.
To be terrified every day, doing what we love.
And yet, how lucky indeed.
I live a similar love story between my creative passions, my most soul-yes expressions and the mini-terrors I feel around birthing them, sharing them.
The blank canvas is achingly pregnant with possibility and wonder. That juice often couples with a shadow energy of "What if I don't rise to my fullest?" or, most terrifying, "What if I crash and burn?"
The blank canvas, though, beckons precisely because it is not paint-by-numbers. It is an opening, an adventure, a discovery, a portal through which we ourselves may transform by daring to paint our truth, our story, our dreams of what could be.
There is a primal vitality in beginning. In launching into the unknown. Beginnings are magic. And magic is not mappable.
Blank canvases can appear in infinite forms: a page awaiting your thoughts, a lens looking for an image, a dinner plate daring you to experiment beyond your go-to meal, a meeting or collaboration before you feel aligned in co-creating towards your goal, someone seeking your wisdom.
In beginning, we dare. We say, YES, we are creating something new here. And sure, leaping into unknowns with no guarantees brings a certain frisson of terror.
But without that shadow energy of fear, we wouldn't grow. We might choose to sit safely on the sofa and watch documentaries about people who dare. We could choose "safe" and also smallness. Safety understandably is a strong desire, but security is largely an illusion.
I'm growing to see my love-fear relationship with mystery and unknowns as my YES-compass guiding me towards rich territory.
Beginnings are amazing chances to grow our love for curiosity. For the adventure of LIVING & feeling that VITALITY of ALIVENESS. Unknowns and our journeys in them expand us.
And so when I feel that tingle of terror before my first stroke on whatever creative canvas is before me, I smile and say thank you.