Here's your sign.

One of my dearest friends is a manager of risk. 

Well, that’s not entirely true. Her resume doesn’t say risk management. But that’s the essence of what she does. She scans the landscape, looking for even the littlest inkling of there being “something on the horizon” that she’d have to react to if it happened. It’s even better if she has the foresight to react *BEFORE* the thing happens. There’s where she makes the big bucks.

Sometimes she gets paid not to react at all. Sometimes, her oft missed-by-others “reaction”, is no reaction: to stay the hell put. And it takes many professional years to learn the difference. The do something v. don’t do something struggle is real, and requires experience, insight, intuition and some significant confidence in yourself.   

But even she will say that at the point at which there are 2983742 different “littlest inklings” on the horizon, that you’re compelled to act. Even if it might be easier to sit still. Even if you could probably ride out the impending storm by hunkering down. Even if you have almost as many reasons to not do anything at all. Sometimes you’ve just gotta move, even if it is just for the sake of proving that you still know how.

You can’t build much of a professional reputation by being the guy that disappears into the bunker every time there’s a storm approaching. There’s a difference between being risk averse and being scared.

Let me say this: She and I are unlikely friends.

We approach life from the opposite ends of the spectrum in almost all scenarios. I’m the train leaving Philadelphia going 200 miles per hour; she the train leaving Kansas City at 75 miles per hour. But in the end, we almost always end up meeting somewhere along interstate 70 around Indianapolis for a cocktail.

It’s not easy being the 200 mile-per-hour train. Most of the time, I push forward, full steam ahead (sometimes, I don’t even realize I’m doing it) and then sort of figure it out as I go along. Once I realize I’ve put myself on the Maglev, I sorta shrug and say “Huh. Look at that. Ok, how am I going to make this work?” I don’t necessarily leap before I look. More times than not, I look around and say “Wait, did I just leap?” and find myself on a path I didn’t mean to be on doing things I didn’t anticipate doing.

And let me say that for the most part this has been the bedrock of an awesome life. If I had realized I was jumping all those times, there’s a solid chance I wouldn’t have done it. (I’m stupider than I am brave.)

I got a pretty big dose of that this week. A series of *seriously* random events, over which I have no control, and which I could have never predicted, afforded me conversations with people I never would have had access to, saying things I never even knew I felt (until I out-of-body-experience heard them coming from my mouth.) This has most likely set me about a brand-new path which I had neither prepared for nor had planned for or had even articulated an interest in before that very moment. (Guess I accidentally leaped…again.)

I legit said at out loud *several* times this week “Wow, I guess that just happened.” (Also a frequent repeat of “I probably shouldn’t have said that…” and the ever apropos “Is this real life?”)   

But friends, it looks like I leaped straight from the platform right onto the speeding train.

For better or worse, I’m going to need to strap in.

My friend is likewise on the brink of transition right now. She has these amazing ideas and so much potential for a “what’s next.” And yet, right now she’s staring down all the perceived obstacles in her way. All the reasons to hunker down and try to ride out the storm. Or to make a 10-year plan to have this all happen later-on when there might be less risk.  

And I get it. That’s the part of me I wish I had a little more of sometimes. I need that perspective in my life (this is why we’re unlikely, but awesome friends. Balance, people. Balance.)

But at one point this week she said to me, “There are just so many little things, I feel like I can’t ignore the signs anymore. I think I’ve got to do this!”

In my mind (and often out loud, if I'm honest...) I said to her, “OF COURSE YOU HAVE TO DO THIS!!!! Why the hell are you waiting for all these signs from the universe? Get on the damn train, already. This isn’t the Polar Express. There’s no magical ticket (also no Tom Hanks.) And contrary to popular opinion, it's unlikely to get easier later.”

And then of course I’m reminded what she does for a living. Her mind is hardwired to mitigate risk. And

this new path with her is a road full of pretty sizeable, potential-risk potholes. It’s in these moments I’m reminded how we’re such different beings on so many levels. And I forget that I'm the kid barreling down the tracks headed towards St. Elmo’s for a Manhattan. And that she's MORE than one had to scrape my million-miles-per-hour, splattered-on-the-road ass up off the highway.

I just don’t want her to miss happy hour, you know?  

Our conversations got me thinking about why it is that we so often feel like we need a sign before we act. So many of us choose not to rely on our gut or the market landscape or research (or the writing on the wall…) before we make our move. We wait for some magical, cannot-be-ignored, from on-high moment to make our path seem inevitable and sure.  

I’m here to tell you friends: That shit doesn’t happen very often. I think we’d all do well to learn to let our gut guide us a little more.  We're smarter than we give ourselves credit for, I think. Most of us have figured out how we tick, and like my friend does professionally, when to hunker down, and when to move. It takes courage to take the chance that seems ridiculous in that very moment.   

I’m not here to say that proceeding without a plan (like I often do) is the smart or safe path. The number of times I’ve scrambled and struggled and fallen flat on my ass is more than I care to count. I would likely have benefited from at least a little more forethought on several notable occasions. 

But you know what? My intuition has never failed me. Not once. Even when I totally failed.  

One of my favorite, annual reads is The Alchemist. I feel like it speaks to me because I have always subscribed to its moral:  When you’re on the path to achieving your personal destiny, all the world conspires to help along the way. What a freeing thought. If you’re doing the right thing, help will appear when you need it.

As naive as that may sound, I guess I’ve always just assumed that I was doing the right thing (whatever “right” means…)  because it has always seemed like I had help when I needed it most—If I was supposed to move forward with something, help always appeared. If it was an uphill, horrible struggle that I had no support with, I could move along without much regret, trusting in the thought that it was time to shuffle along.

So maybe that’s it. It’s in the recognition of the help all around you—When you finally realize you have all the support (and motivation) necessary to do what you know in your gut you *have* to do. Maybe that’s the magical “sign” we need. Or better still, the sign which appears... when we're ready to see it. 

But I would say this: There ain’t a sign in the universe bigger than the core of your person knowing that you’ve GOT to do something. You don’t need anyone else to tell you that. And once you’ve recognized it, there are no more excuses. Get on the train already.

My husband is fond of saying that if you go looking for meaning in something, you’ll likely find it there. And I think that’s true to a great degree. So here it is. Time to look up. Take notice of the the supports around you. Take a deep breath, examine your gut, and leap (ahem, you know who you are…)

Here’s your sign.

The universe and your support system are all ready for your greatness.  

 
And me? I’ll meet you in Indy, regardless of how long it takes us to get there.