leap and the net will appear

My first marriage was to an aspiring actor. Like most young couples, we had big dreams but little knowledge or money to reach them. Our five-year plan included a move to L.A. that would put him right in the heart of the movie industry and closer to his ultimate goal of stardom.

I believed in his aspirations because he had tremendous talent. He could belt out Elton John at karaoke and bring the whole room to tears. He acted in community plays and recited his lines with passion. 

When it came to putting himself out there, however, I felt like the stage mom calling all the shots. I encouraged him to seek a talent agent even though the cost was disproportionate to our income. I bragged to anyone who would listen about his Hollywood future.

Allegedly due to a customer complaint, he lost his Starbucks job. Rather than seek out acting gigs, he filled his hours getting high and playing video games. Tired of nagging, my encouragement eventually turned into resentment. We split soon after. 

In hindsight, he probably lacked the confidence needed to “make it big” at that point in his life - the same confidence it would take me another three decades to develop. I was ambitiously climbing the corporate ladder, determined to claim the power it bestowed. Subconsciously, I couldn't deem myself worthy of that level of success, nor was it aligned to my true purpose.

I couldn’t see then that it was my attempt to carefully curate a practical path rather than lean into the messiness of creativity. 

Full Circle

“Leap and the net will appear,” a coworker said over his shoulder as I passed him in the New York office of my company two weeks ago. I chuckled as I continued down the hall. My ex-husband used that phrase incessantly, and my twenty-five-year-old self rolled her eyes every time. It didn't fit the mold my logical brain was pouring me into at the time.

Remarried for the past eight years, I have explained to my husband, Ryan, that I’m in a unique position to understand his fear state. I've literally been in his shoes. The first time I suggested I might use our Hamilton property profit to quit my job, I heard an immediate and emphatic “no.” My final day of my corporate job, he hugged and congratulated me repeatedly. 

Since then, I’ve planted the seed that some thought leaders and authors are able to “retire” their husbands. We work best as a team, so I’m happy to be shifting his thoughts around this new chapter. After all, my success just might mean that he can loaf off and ride his horse every day. 

Holding hands, we are both leaping into the unknown. I’ve never been more certain of the net coming into view, something I couldn’t envision when I heard that phrase twenty-five years ago. It is echoed in this quote I saw during a training last week, one that reminds me I must have blind faith in everything that is yet to unfold:

Faith is taking the next step even when you can’t see the staircase. -Martin Luther King, Jr.