And after the Leap of Faith...?

I ran. I jumped. I landed on the rock.
The safety net worked. But it won't hold much longer.

Now what?

I'm doing my best to stave off the feelings of self-reproach, desperation, and impotence.

I'm working on that faith thing...
Trusting in flow. Believing that I will encounter exactly what I need.
As long as I keep an eye out for it. Whatever it is.

Doing my darndest to keep the vice grip from clenching tighter around the center of my chest.
I guess that would be my heart.
The anxiety.
The fucking anxiety.
The anxiety that only hinders and never helps.
The anxiety I can't recall not knowing.

Trying to stay calm, cool, collected. Gotta stay positive, (thank you Hold Steady). Or as the ubiquitious bumper sticker on island claims, "Positive is How I Live."
Because as cheesy as it may sound, that's what it's about. This creating your own life thing.

It's liberating and it's terrifying.

What I'd like to feel is bold. Confident. Enthusiastic. Limitless. An omnipotent force in my own life.

I want the tightness that tries so hard to grip my chest, I want to whack it like a ping pong ball
And turn the worry into something light. Something that flies.

Turn it into something creative. Loving. Compassionate. Connected.
I want my soul salivating over the deliciousness of life.

But those circuits in my brain that are so used to worrying. They run deep. Like an ancient river bed,
always waiting for a new current to fill its dry banks.

And those nasty negative feelings and thoughts that tell me I won't find a job.
That it's hopeless. That I'm worthless and irresponsible. That I won't be able to pay rent next month.
That those strong magnetic forces that attracted me to this island, surprising me as much as everyone else.
That inspired me to leave a very good man.To leave a perfectly good well-paying, fully-benefited job in a down economy without having another lined up...
That the synchronous pull that led me here simply dropped me off and left again to entice the next idiot who fantasizes about things like romantic island adventures and writing books.

And I'm stranded on an island where everything costs more than it did in Minnesota with the exception of alcohol, cigarettes, and pot. And where salaries are very much below those in the Twin Cities.
Stranded and shit out of luck.

But that would be looking on the downside.
Because we create our own luck, right?

And I am an optimist.
An optimist trying to cultivate more pluck.

I don't really want to retreat back to the cage, do I?

Nope. Not when it's put to me like that, I don't.

Tropical Inspiration in my Neighborhood