I’m not holding out any longer for “the perfect moments.”
This afternoon on the subway platform I finally realized that really and truly – there is no such thing.
Hannah Brencher is right.
If I kept waiting for the perfect time to start writing, I’d be sitting here forever with a book’s worth of unpublished words on crumpled up, ink blotted pages. I’d never start if I waited until inspiration struck – or until I found just the right words; ones that were worthy of the ideas in my head. So here they are. My words aren’t perfect, but I don’t need to wait any longer to show them to you.
And Penelope is right too.
I’d be waiting forever if I waited for the perfect moment to uproot my entire life. So here I am, the night before I take my one-way ticket and my overweight suitcase down to the airport. I have no escape plan. No map or compass to determine what comes next.
If I waited until it was convenient to move to south Florida – to quit my job, introduce myself as a freelancer, step off of these dirty sidewalks and take my shadow with me – I might be in Baltimore forever. And I might be jumping to conclusions here, but I’m the kind of person that could live and die without risking a single thing.
I’ve been plotting and orchestrating and arranging the“perfect moments”– the easy clear-cut paths – and in the process, I’ve been taming my own heart. As I’ve fought for control I’ve forced my mind into overdrive. And I haven’t lived in the freedom that’s so readily available to me since.
So tonight I’m hitting publish. I’m handing over my house keys. I’m zipping up the suitcase. And with these little acts of surrender – I put control back into the hands of the God who sees me. I rediscover my brave heart and my fierce will. I am Corie again.
I’m daring to hope that relief is just beyond the risk. I think peace can be found in the most unlikely of places. I think that quiet Florida afternoon – floating on my back in the clear blue ocean – was just a taste of the calm that I could be feasting on.
This is why I am done hoping for the perfect moment. I’ve reached a point where just the chance to change is enough. And if I wait here – I might be staring through the bars on my window on this Baltimore street for the rest of my life, with my cursor blinking on the white, blank page.
Thanks for joining me on this journey to find my voice. If you’re reading this, chances are good that you’ve cheered me on to this point – and I am grateful to have each of you alongside me!