There is always a next right step to take, but I’m often afraid to take it. I have a plan on how to share more of my writing with the world and to grow my SubStack, but a part of me is scared.
I’m not even sure what I’m afraid of. My mind can come up with a bunch of logical reasons, but they all lead me to one conclusion: I’m scared of the unknown.
When I woke up in our 1-month apartment in Nepal this morning for a beautiful chat with my Dad in California, I saw a massive amount of fog in every direction.
Usually, it’s blue skies here every day, but this morning my visibility was limited. I’m afraid of what lies beyond the fog of my future, and, truthfully, as much as it pains me to admit this, I’m afraid of myself.
Fog is neutral. Beyond the fog is a canvas onto which my mind projects its beliefs. Because I’m afraid of traveling further into the fog, it means I’m terrified of the images my mind has projected onto my future.
I thought, if I waited long enough, the fog would clear, and then I could take the next step in my life. But the opposite has occurred; the fog has gotten thicker, and although I’m very comfortable where I’m at, I know I must leave now.
If I don’t begin walking forward, I may never leave this fog. Unlike the sky in front of me, with fog that has now cleared, and turned into a blue sky on its own, I must move.
One of my favorite quotes is, “All know the way but few actually walk it.” I know the way, and now is the time for me to walk it.
Wish me luck!
Love,
Eric John Campbell
