I took a leap of faith almost four and a half years ago.

At the time, I knew with every inch of my being it was the right thing to do. Now?

Let’s just say that if I had known then that after all this time I’d still be falling, I’m not sure I would have done it.

I felt truly guided to jump. I quit my job, gave up my apartment and sold all my belongings. I had no plan and no desire for one. I decided to take one step at a time. I was going to go with the flow of life.

In fact, another clear knowing was this: from now on, you will only know what you are doing when you are doing it.

Take a moment to think about that line.

It sounds kind of cool. At least, it did to me. But the exact meaning only settled in years later.

Of course, the truth is we only ever know what we are doing when we are doing it. If we have built our lives with some illusion of control, it is easy to miss this. Armed with only a backpack and faith, it was a little different.

But still, it has been over four years, and I’ve yet to hit a comfortable landing. Instead, if feels like I landed on a trampoline.

Sometimes all I want to do is scream to the powers that be: get me off this crazy ride!

I guess I could just get off, but that would mean settling rather than seeing this chapter to its natural conclusion. After all this time, I am not prepared to do that.

The journey has been filled with highs and lows. I’ve realised it is the space between these where I learn the most. And so, these spaces have become extremely important.

The thing with space is that it can give the appearance of a void. A feeling that nothing is happening. This can be uncomfortable—it certainly has been for me.

When I took the leap I didn’t think about the fact that there are no guarantees. Yes, the Universe conspired to bring me all that I needed and desired. Often, though, it did so in a way that looked nothing like I thought it would. Instead of work to earn money, I’d land a housesitting opportunity that covered my basic needs.

At first I struggled against this; I became very specific in expressing what I thought I wanted and needed.

Over time, I realised the best thing I could was this:

I’d tell the Universe where I was and what I thought I needed, but that I understood that It knew better. I simply began to ask that I be given all that was needed for my highest and greatest good.

Trusting this process has not always been easy, and to some extent, after all this time my life has the appearance of a shattered dream and I am left feeling exhausted.

I let go of everything, and as yet nothing has replaced all that I have surrendered.

It’s been such a long process because it wasn’t only about letting go of things that were immediately obvious like my possessions or job.

I’ve had to let go of beliefs. I’ve had to question everything, including what I believe about God. I tossed it all out. I had nothing left. I let go of relationships, I let go of having a “home” or a country. I let go of who I thought I was and what I was supposed to be doing. It was hard!

Letting go of God was the hardest because, as I said, I felt guided to take the leap in the first place.

If I no longer believed in God, then what on earth had I been doing for the past four years; whose guidance had I been following? If I no longer believed in God this meant I had made one giant mistake. My life was a mess and the reason it was was because I was delusional. That was tough to deal with. It meant I had to take full responsibility for all that was happening, and it meant that only I could get myself out of it.

There was no help to be had from anyone or anything else.

Also, until then, I sailed through the lows with complete faith. They were difficult, but I trusted that all was as it should be. When I let go of God, I felt like I had nothing. It destroyed me.

I eventually realised that I never actually gave up God—I just gave up my definition of It. I am slowly forming a new meaning that resonates with my experience and what I sense to be real.

It is bringing me back to life. It has given me a renewed sense of hope.

I now get that the purpose of this journey was to reach the point where I had nothing, or at least felt like I had nothing.

I am here on purpose. Not by accident. A turning point is on its way. I will close this chapter and start the next. I feel it as strongly as I did the need to take the initial leap.

My leap of faith brought a whole lot more pain and suffering than I could ever have anticipated.

And still, I believe it is the best thing I have ever done.

 

Author: Bianca Marks

Editor: Emily Bartran

Photo: Caden Crawford/Flickr