"Jump, and the net will appear"

I haven’t jumped yet. Right now I’m perched on the edge of the precipice, swinging my arms back and forth to generate the forward motion. It’s silly, really, this hesitation. The reasons I am hesitating are poor at best. I know that it will be fine once I bend my knees and propel myself into space. Intellectually, I know that the net will appear. Even if it doesn’t, I know that I’ll catch myself on my own two feet. I’m scrappy like that.

Still, I hesitate. I hesitate because jumping makes me feel like a failure, like I’m bailing. I feel like jumping is more like abandoning ship than simply saving myself.

And yet, the longer I stand on the ledge, the clearer the ground below seems to me. The longer I stand on the ledge, the more I become desperate to just take the leap already.

It isn’t a question of “if” anymore, it’s a question of “when.” When will I let it go, when will I take this humongous risk? When will I give myself permission to be Great, rather than stagnating in the Land of Mediocrity?

I want to have faith in the net. I want to have faith in myself. I’m getting closer, more out of desperation than real faith, but I’ll take what I can get at this point. Sooner or later, whether by plan or spontaneous frustration, I’m going to take the flying leap into the unknown. In three… two… two… two…