Bandwagons and Caravans

I wouldn't so much call myself fickle, as say that I endeavour to enjoy all life has to offer. I intend to sample everything possible until I am either bored or perfectly content. If an opportunity strikes me as potentially enlightening, fun or necessary for personal growth, I tend to bring it on at any cost. Although this tendency may seem idealistic or hedonistic and/or indulgent, I will warn you that few of my samplings and life decisions have come without a cost.

Last month I said I would let you know how my acceptance of and invitation for change has played out, since I made a commitment to it. That commitment brought me to consider some of the lessons I have learned throughout my life. With every invitation to change, the acceptance of it brings a lesson.

During my teen years, I accepted these lessons as an inevitable, benign and a worthy part of life. Quitting school reminded me that I am the sole director of my future, that I am intelligent and will graduate on my own motivation. After a belated graduation, I dabbled in the possibility of being a hairdresser and a wife in Alberta. My lesson from that situation was that if what you want is simple, it might be easily attained, but it may also be the fast-food version of happiness. I wanted to write, to be educated, to be wooed. I moved back to the Island and enrolled in college. Skip a few years ahead until things really get rolling and my life-lessons rolled in like rogue waves... not much warning and left me soaked to the bone or halfway out to sea.

The older I get, the lessons come more impactfully and less directly: I have to look for them now.

Every occurrence in life has a lesson attached to it. Whether it's an intentional decision or a random happening, if you look closely enough, the lesson is there; with the lesson comes growth. Recently (as you will know if you've been reading my articles!) I gave up my job, finished school and started on a year-long journey of following my bliss. I have learned that bliss-following does not mean I don't have to plan or that I can be totally self-involved (mostly, though). Here are some tidbits that have come from my last four months of freedom:

If it hurts to be at work—QUIT—jobs are a-plenty.

Cost: loss of fiscal stability and benefits.
Lesson: I am free.

If your current environment feels out of whack—consider whether you're being resistant to change or circumstance—if you are and it feels right to adjust, then do it. If not, MOVE.

Cost: Familiar environment, career connections, housing.
Lesson: I can always leave.

If you have gotten yourself bogged down—let go of what you can with integrity, then suck up the rest and finish. Next time, insist that you leave yourself room for BALANCE among your body, mind, heart and soul.

Cost: Letting some people down.
Lesson: Knowing my limits, truly seeking balance.

If you find yourself without many attachments: no partner, no kids, no job or half-ass job, do what you want to. This opportunity is rare—SEIZE IT!

Cost: Zero.
Lesson: Life is short—live.

If you can't stop yourself from falling for someone who is technically off-limits—FALL. It is your life and your happiness in the end; if it's meant to be, everyone else will find their peace in time.

Cost: One very close friend, the respect of others, guilt.
Lesson: I haven't figured them all out yet from this one, but I will tell you that above all, love is between you and the one you share it with.

Who is Leela Roe? Read her previous articles and find out: