On the heels of Saturday’s post, let’s talk.
Something made me hang on to that tattered cocktail napkin for 22 years. Something inside my spirit believed in what Dan saw. Just like something stopped me dead in my tracks, on what was to be my last night on the stripper pole at the age of 28. Sure, I made the choice to leave, but something ignited that decision.
Stripper, housewife, student, executive – no matter what your story – we all have those moments, standing with our hands in the air at the fork in our ever-winding roads. Our toes planted firmly in the soil, as our eyes pierce down each path, searching for clues on which way to turn.
Sometimes the answer is clear, and we don’t miss a step. Other moments present themselves, and we haven’t a clue where to go. Then there are those lovely situations, in which the decisions couldn’t be more obvious, but we’re in such denial, we can barely breathe with our heads so far in the sand. But time waits for no one, and our journey must continue, so we eventually land on a path, and keep plugging along.
If you follow me on Twitter, you may have heard me joke about the devil and angel on my shoulder. They’re always hooking up, falling apart, then somehow end up in a three-way with the voice of reason in my head. Those pesky shoulder pads of mine are the Sam and Diane of my conscience, while Carla is my voice of reason (it’s entirely possible I grew up watching too much television).
So what is that something? What’s behind the torrid liaisons of our heart and minds telling us to go here, or stop there? Call it your gut feeling, intuition, or inner-voice, and you nailed it. It’s that blind faith in ourselves that carries us across the threshold of decision. More often than not, we’re wrong. We fall so hard, it takes an army of will to pick ourselves up and keep on. But keep on we do, and the lessons, they continue.
One of my favorite movie lines is from Under The Tuscan Sun, and a delicous metaphor for blind faith:
“Between Austria and Italy, there is a section of the Alps called the Semmering. It is an impossibly steep, very high part of the mountains. They built a train track over these Alps to connect Vienna and Venice. They built these tracks even before there was a train in existence that could make the trip. They built it because they knew some day, the train would come.”
Building our personal train tracks is anything but easy. We wear out, get battered and bruised, and some days, just want to quit. But what’s important is that we keep building. Something inside us whispers to our hearts, tells us to believe, to keep working. Because that something knows – our trains will come.