Even if you fall on your face, you’re still moving forward. Victor Kiam
Do you know the saying about a ship in motion being easier to steer? It haunted my late teens and early twenties. I had dreams and ambitions, and spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to reach them, in those pre-internet days. I also spent an inordinately large amount of time seeking divine guidance. To be fair, even parental guidance would have been helpful. I love my parents, and begrudge nothing, but I wasted an awful lot of confused time angsting about callings and purpose.
Ironically, one of the most significant steps I took in later life, still seeking direction and confirmation but also thoroughly researching, weighing up all the pros and cons, and entering cautiously, led me and my husband to financial ruin and excruciating heartache. All heartache and crises are relative, and for us it was devastating. We are still recovering. It won’t shock you to know at times we wish we never tried. At least our immobile ship wouldn’t have sunk in quite the same spectacular way. Maybe just a gentle list, with a handy disembarking ramp nearby.
But through it all, for the most part, I have remained fiercely forward-looking. And it took this disaster to finally shake off my old mind-set and take ownership of my decisions. Once I had moved out of the trauma enough to feel more than just numbness or fear, I begin to imagine other possibilities than our status quo. HOW could I move forward? WHAT could I do to change where the storm had driven us? WHERE could forward movement take us?
And so began the next part of the journey that led me to my newly (self) published first YA novel Find Me. Which brings me to the point I wanted to make today. Once I started moving forward again with purpose and vision, I began to experience the sort of thing people might mean about the law of attraction. I began to encounter people who helped me specifically towards my goal. If we want to keep using the ship analogy, they supplied wind for my sails, and in some cases, pieces of sail, or oars, or even stretches of water. This has probably always been the case, but in the face of what I’d lost, I witnessed each hand stretched out in help with incredulous wonder. And this phenomena hasn’t stopped.
I’ve reached that first huge ambition: I am now a published author. My YA story is really good (in my humble opinion). And now I’m writing the rest of the series. And trying to share it all with readers. Part of that sharing process has had me thinking outside the box, and with the age of information and access to online tools, I’m beginning to re-use other skills and talents that were also part of my young self’s hopes and ambitions. Which – incredibly – haven’t changed.
So I guess what I’m wanting to share with you today is encouragement to keep a heart that hopes for better, and anticipates more. That lets you look forward to glimpse other possibilities than the crisis or heartache you may currently be sinking under. Even though the outcomes may linger, the pounding force or serrated edge of them will ease in time, and your lungs will fill with air, and when you start to move forward, I bet you’ll find hands extended to help. Happy writing all.
