I don’t know if you have read my other blog about the water nymphs. But bottom line, it was about how to look for your own inborn talent that has been waiting patiently for years for you to be seen and picked up and to enjoy with full happiness.
It has been over 2 weeks now that I have been walking around with a new revolution in my arms. Although it should feel like floating in the air embraced by a new freedom and screaming out to everybody I am on my way, reality is that carrying my new uprising feels like plomp and rather than lifting me up, I am glued to the floor. I stopped even writing, my way of liberating my thoughts and to read afterwards what is going on my head. I am clearly too scared to read my own spinning myself this time.
The problem, when revealing your own talent, is that as it is a talent of course it comes naturally to you. So when I “discovered” what my talent was, I immediately doubted and struggled with questions and remarks like ”this is not special at all” and “what kind of special thing can you do with such an amateur talent like mine?”
In an attempt to live and accept myself, I am humbly putting my talents there to water this idea I have. A dossier with big letters CONFIDENTIAL on it, where in secret with a shy shame, I work in on my own little revolution as significant (or insignificant according to my own water nymphs) it may be.
This -in the closet- rising is growing by the days. Most of everything I hope it will inspire you too to explore and stand up for your own talent’s rights and create your own upheaval.
There are moments when new pieces of my rebellion puzzles arrive. It feels like a mysterious warm river filling my hearth with “home“ water. A feeling so “womb” nice that I know I am doing the right thing. But this feeling does not last forever, the rest of the time I have to deal to live with the many tiny heart attacks this transformation is causing in my body. Snipers hitting me at the middle of the panic rose.
I faced struggles and have done crazy dive jumps before; I redid my high school exam three times, left an established financial career at the age 32 to restart a career with blossoming passion as an intern at a fashion company. I had 3 jobs to work out my annual university fee for 5 years and struggled to graduate on a topic that did not interest me but just to please my father. They all seemed endless but I knew I was going till the very end with no doubt.
So with all that luggage on my back, why am I so scared of this one?
All those quotes that I read to give me some courage, like “the end of the comfort zone is where life begins” and “when it scares you it might be the right thing to do”, all lose their appeal when a tiger ferocious fear is looking you straight in the eye. The only quote making sense now is “if it feels like sh*tting in your pant, go to the toilet.”
As we speak I have secluded myself in my country house where there are no sounds except the one of the wind and my stomach making burbling water sounds, mumbling with a mouth full it is feeling sick. Hoping to find in this peaceful nature environment my answer and courage to get ready to revolt myself.
How to get the courage? How to make a plan? I have been writing some little notes in my notebook. But it has not all come to one single BIG Messiah project yet. Long away from water nymphs, I still sometimes hear a sea wind whispering me “Who is going to care?”
And even if I know from common Facebook wisdom postings that you do it for yourself; are we secretly not lying to ourselves and do we not all long in silence for some recognition of any kind?
If it is not the mass confirming you with the touch of a “like” button what you do, then at least one person telling you, that your story made a difference or helped them go ahead.
Longing for recognition has become the 2014/2015 shame and guilty pleasure?
We all want to feel significant in some kind of way and why should be ashamed of it? Is this the true new mutiny we should be talking about it?
So let’s get it on, Mrs Revolution. Lets get ready for some Russian roulette. I am taking my position to jump.
Imagine this moment;you close your eyes just before you take a bungee jump at 60 meters in a cold winter morning. Around and below of you the only companion is just a dense humid cold fog. Do you get the picture?
Well, I am there and look at me when I am jumping. Don’t mistake my facial expression for calmness, I am in adrenaline shock and don’t be fooled by my giggling, it is my in vane attempt to steam off some pressure and trying to still look nice in a panic pose. Inside I am living a fear at its coldest freezing purity. That first step to decide when to jump, knowing that once you will be floating, nobody can do anything anymore; it is done.
OK, I go, knowing that you are thinking of me NOW, it feels like the invisible hand holding me. In the split second before I jump I will think of you and squeeze your hand and thank God you are there.