Go ahead, jump! Life ought to scare you sometimes

Back in the heydays of reporting, back when newspapers still had major street cred, back when journalism was a noble profession, the theater critic at my paper decided to up and quit.

It might be difficult to imagine this golden past, but give me a minute. Being a reporter was an excellent gig. We got to talk to people about their lives, ask all the nosy questions we wanted, and people told us stuff. It mattered. I think it still does, but that’s another day’s story.

So this guy was the theater critic. Minneapolis, where we worked, was (and is) a hot spot for good theater. For all kinds of theater, of course, but really for some excellent stuff. This guy got paid to go to shows, to interview the actors and to write about it for our readers. He got paid well; we were a union shop.

For a lot of people, this would be a dream job. And he wasn’t a young man. He certainly had obligations, financial and otherwise, that might have kept him in his job forever. 

But he felt the stirrings to go and he listened. A cottage in the south of France had his name on it. He knew this, and however great his current life was, he wanted to follow it to the next thing. So he did. He quit his job and remains in France to this day.

Just before he left, I came to his desk to talk to him about what he was going to do. I was a young reporter, thrilled to be at this major paper, excited by the work, fascinated by the newsroom. I couldn’t fathom giving it up. But some part of me, even then, could understand ditching it all to eat baguettes and chocolate on the rocky sea side shores of Canne.

I said to him dreamily, “Oh, I wish I could do that.”

And he responded without hesitation, “Well, you could, you know.”

Who, me? Really?

 I was fascinated by the idea. I played around with it in my head for days following this conversation. I came to understand that he was, of course, completely correct. I could set that as my course and create my life around that wish. If I really wanted to, I had the skills and resources and opportunities to do exactly what I was saying I wanted.

The theater critic, I’m certain, has no idea how much freedom he gave me with his response. To me, it was motivation to be clear about what I wanted, and about doing what is necessary to get what I want. And if I didn’t really want something, then I need not long for it. I knew then not to long for something that I’m not willing to back up with action. I get to decide what my life is. I probably had to learn this one a few times. 

Still, in considering my life, I had found the ways to make my life work. If I really want something, I can be a powerful force in making it happen. 

We all get that power in our lives. I’ve watched people take a leap out of their comfortable day-to-day worlds to do something extraordinary. It’s exhilarating to see. 

The process of following the song in our hearts isn’t always easy, of course. But without taking risks, we will stay exactly where we are. If we’re not happy where we are, no one else is going to change it for us. 

What would happen if we dreamed of the south of France? What would our relationships be like if we said what needed to be said? What if we answered, “Yes!” to something that scared us to death? What would be different?

I stayed for years at that newspaper after my conversation with the theater critic. I loved my job; I loved my boss and my colleagues. I loved the people I wrote about and the idea that I was useful and contributing something good to the world.  And I got paid well. But when I had my first baby, I knew that I needed to quit. I simply couldn’t divide my attention between two loves, and the baby won.

I announced my imminent departure and the news spread throughout the newsroom quickly. In my final two weeks there, I had many people stop by my desk to hear about why I was leaving. And more than a handful paused, sighed deeply and said, “Oh, I wish I could do that.”

And I didn’t hesitate to answer: 

 “Well, you could, you know.”