On Taking the Plunge

The thing is, I have reached a point where I don’t really care whether I sink or not.  I’m at a place where even drowning seems better that staying in the boat.  I’ve been sitting in the boat for so long, doing the right thing, being careful and responsible, rocking it now and again, but backing off the moment someone starts complaining or it seems like we’re about to capsize.  Maybe it’s time to just get out.  If I sink, then I sink.  If I don’t, well, the possibilities are endless, aren’t they?

Don’t you just sometimes feel like risking it all on an off chance?  I think the reason why there are so few truly great people out there is because so few people are willing to risk it on an idea, on a dream.  It would be so much easier if one could be sure one’s doing the right thing, but then they wouldn’t call it risk, would they?

My problem is I hate even the idea of letting others down.  People depend on me, and if I get out now, they’re going to struggle.  But on the other hand, shouldn’t I think of myself as well?  What does it help if I am there for everyone else, but in the meantime I burn out from doing something that doesn’t fulfil me?

Then there’s failure.  What if I do sink?  What if I have to call out to those guys still sitting in the boat and beg them to haul me back in?  What if they don’t want to, or what if they’ve picked up another passenger in the meantime?

See, you can’t just step out of the boat.  You’ve got to have a safety net.  Peter didn’t just decide to get out – he was called, and that meant someone was there to catch him when he sank.  I’m not sure whether I’m being called or whether I’m just anxious to leave the boat.  I don’t know how to know.