Being Chicken and Hugging Trees…..

In the next 18 months, I have a big decision to make and it’s scaring me. If I do what I think I want to do, I am going to have to disrupt my life. I have two choices. Remain comfortable or take a chance. If I stay in my comfy chair, I know I will have regrets. If I take a chance, I am risking failure that could come with a very bruised ego and a financial cost. I am feeling “chicken”.

When Wayne was diagnosed with cancer, I made changes. I didn’t know what life was going to look like. He could barely walk down the driveway and he certainly couldn’t walk up stairs. I took measures to ensure we were “safe” because I felt so uncertain (and scared). We bought a new house that was less maintenance, I bought a new car because our old one was approaching a 400,000 km death. If Wayne couldn’t work, I needed the moment in time when the bank saw us as stable and I shored up our assets. I took on a new career and everything about each of those decisions was to ensure that we would be “ok”.

And now Wayne is well. We took care of the weird unspoken societal checklist; shelter, transportation and even savings. All noble but it feels very beige.

Living “safe” was the right decision at the time but now, I am reflecting on my decisions and the price of my choices. Maybe I have compromised. I enjoy what I do, and I really like my new car (who doesn’t love a heating steering wheel?) and I love that after 30 years, we have more than one bathroom. I also love the luxury of being able to buy butter because for many years, we could only afford margarine. The problem is that comfort comes at a cost. I have taken the “safe” path and a piece of me feels like I’m not really living the life that I dreamed.

I have an inner yearning to do something brave. It’s a calling that comes from the heart. Maybe you know what I am talking about. That little dream or wish that lies within that keeps trying to get your attention. It’s like a phone that rings and each time I hear the call, I send it to voicemail or pretend it’s a wrong number.

What if what I think I want to do should just remain as wishful thinking because if I were to execute the yearning, I would blow everything up because I’m not capable of it? What if what I want to do is something I am terrible at? What if I think I am better than I actually am? If I can’t achieve the simple things, do I really have what it takes to do something bigger?

At the moment, I am trying to plant a garden from seeds. I thought I could start a garden from seeds and at the moment, all I have to show for it is dirt that is well watered. I planted the seeds but after weeks of watering, there is no sign of life.

Even tonight, I’m the result of a “what the f@ck moment”. I have taken myself on a bit of a holiday and while I thought I booked a lovely king room with amenities, when I went to check in they didn’t have a booking. It turns out that I booked something entirely different. I’m not saying that a little motel on the side of a highway isn’t cute, but I am going to suggest that the undergarments I found at the bottom of my bed are certainly not mine. If I can’t lose five pounds, grow a flower or book a hotel room, how am I going to execute a dream of the heart?

I’m chicken. This is incredibly ironic given that I own a blog domain called “and then I jumped“. At the present moment, I should call it “and then I wanted to jump”. Ugh.

I am at an age when “playing it safe” is the good play. I don’t want to not be ok in the coming aging years. I don’t want to go back to buying margarine or being financially vulnerable, but I am also afraid of living with regret.

I am afraid of making a decision and even more afraid of making a bad decision. What if I do something that we can’t bounce back from? Chicken.

We have 30 chickens so I feel I can bravely use this word to describe my current state. Chickens don’t have a great deal going on. When I watch them, I often wonder what they are saying or if they are saying anything at all. In my mind, it might go like this:

BEATRICE: “What are you doing today Mavis?”

MAVIS: “Oh, I thought I would just peck at the ground and see what’s there. Maybe lay an egg. How about you?”

BEATRICE: “Same”

And off they go…. every day is the same. Eat, drink, scratch at the dirt and when they feel moved, they might lay an egg and then call it a day. Very few look over the fence and wonder what lies beyond.

There is a history to the term “being chicken”. Folklore says that there was a play written in 1450 that described cowardly action as “henne-harte” and according to the Oxford English Dictionary, it was William Shakespeare who used the fowl as a descriptor when he wrote “Forthwith they fly, Chickens,” in Cymbeline, circa 1616. The term was used to describe soldiers fleeing a battlefield. It won’t come as a surprise to learn that bravery was exemplified by roosters and important men were sometimes referred to as “cocks”. I am guessing that was a compliment at the time.

Being “chicken” has been a timeless characteristic and is currently an adept descriptor of my current state. There is also the physical similarity of being in my fifties and feeling both fluffy and puffy…..I will just leave it at that.

In my little fenced area, I lead a comfortable life, but I yearn for something else and wish I could know that if I pursued it, it would work out.

I want to do something that feels crazy. It is likely not financially rewarding, I may not even be good at it, but it is all I think about every single day. It’s the “thing” that lies outside of the fenced area and it’s scary. It would mean risking rejection, possible humiliation and the very worst thing…. thinking I might be good and maybe it turns out that I am really, really bad. If I don’t take a chance, I might as well go live with the chickens. “Why yes Beatrice and Mavis, I would like to join you pecking at the ground day after day until I end up in the freezer……”

I recently listened to an interview with Melinda French Gates and she talked about turning 60 and reinventing herself. What was interesting is that she talked about returning to her original state. She talked about becoming more like her “old self”; the self she was when she was younger. She feels more free and more fun. I understand that. I used to be different, and I miss that version of myself. I thought the “check list” was a way to grow up when in fact, all I did was grow away from who I loved to be. I think what is calling me is “me”. The “me” before I started to censor myself to achieve the “check list” and live “beige”

It was a slow erosion. Reading an email before I send it to make sure I hit the right “tone”, speaking in language that was neutral. “Collaborate” is a very safe word, it says that I am “part of you”. And how about all the emojis. Since when did sending a “heart” to colleagues become a thing? Yes, I adore working with my colleagues, but all the memes and the hearts seem more performative than authentic and yet, I do it to ensure that my language is in keeping with the culture. Safe. Paying attention to social nuances is hard and I’m not very good at that either. Even my wardrobe is lacking. The other week, my lovely colleagues commented on how nice I looked. To be clear, I was wearing a sweater. That’s how low my bar is. A “sweater” with some fun hearts got some attention. Oh my god. I totally suck.

But back to my big life decision. Do I disrupt comfort and take a chance knowing it’s a 50/50 risk that I can do it but at least I will know and not continue to wonder or wish.

A few weeks I celebrated my birthday. I try and keep my birthday on the down low and rather than a birthday party, I hold an evening that I call “Open Season for Gin”. My gal pals got wise to me and this year, they threw me a party. I had to laugh. They themed it based on my iconic mainstays. They all wore pearls, a scarf and wore readers perched of their heads. It was really fun. So was the evening.

We had a ton of social and the big take-away was the connection that everyone felt. Too often long winters keep us separate and attached to our couches. Within the social setting, we gather to connect and share and the negative images we have of ourselves shatter when friends reflect back the goodness that they see. We are often more than what we see ourselves. Thank god for friends.

This week I learned more about my friend Jane. She described her and her husband as empty nesters and with no one in the nest, they migrated to their couch with Netflix and wine. They had jobs and security, but they were getting saggy and bored. They opened the door to their big outrageous dream. They burned the couch, sold their house and moved to Clearwater where they bought 80 acres and started their farm. By the way, Jane didn’t know how to farm….

That was in 2021 and today, the farm is thriving. They work off the premise of “seed to table” and the organic bounty is unbelievable. In addition to vegetables, Jane picked up on a past passion and training as a florist and grows hundreds of flowers that she now sells. If that isn’t enough, they also raise cattle and sheep.

When she speaks about her life, her eyes light up, she gets emotional and passionate. Sure, she was afraid and wondered who would believe her; imposter syndrome is also very real, but she remembered a skit she saw when she was young. A little girl who was in grade two told her dad that she was going to quit school. The dad asked her what she planning to do and the little girl immediately said “I’m going to teach grade one”.

We don’t have to be experts to start, we just have to start. Ask Jane. She’s amazing and in her fifties…..

Today I went walking with a friend and she announced that her and husband are planning to move to Belize. She wants to start an eco B&B and live off the land. She wants to feel calm and grow food that she can sell at the market and not have to worry about high costs of living. Yesterday she sold her dining room table. Her dream is becoming a reality.

I have other friends that are making big moves. Friends that have decided that they can’t work another day and chose retirement. They wanted to “live” rather than exist. Other friends have left long time relationships because they no longer wanted to feel “numb” and despite the financial implications, they now feel alive.

They have resisted fear to live out loud and I am in awe of their courage. How can I become more like them? I am entrenched in fear. Fear of making bad decisions that don’t allow us to retire and being so broke that my kids will have to support me. Yes, that scares me but what scares me more is that when my eyesight fails, they will take delight in not plucking chin hairs as payback for the many moments when I should have used my inside voice and didn’t.

I’ve spoken of regret. It’s the other side of fear. The regret that I will just peck at the ground and not take the chance to follow the big outrageous dream and that regret will make me bitter.

I started this blog with the intention of doing things that scared me to ensure that I didn’t become complacent. What I didn’t anticipate is that a sense of wanting to “hold” financial security would become my fence. While the ledge is secure, it’s also boring and a little soul crushing.

My friend Nikki suggested that I try hugging a tree and do it in my bare feet. She said that I might be surprised at what I would feel. I took her advice, and I went out to hug trees, and this is what I felt.

I felt connected and whole. I felt at peace, and I felt the weight of worry disappear. I felt the earth ground me and the tree reminded me of what it was to grow strong in the forest and not bend. I felt who I was and who I was supposed to be and all that I have been protecting is just a sham.

If I don’t try, I will just have dirt. What if I plant the seeds and tend to them? What if they grow and they start to grow and suddenly, I will have flowers that begin to bloom? I won’t know until I try.

Maybe you are like me and having a dream that is calling and you, like me, having been ignoring the call? It doesn’t have to be big. What if we start small and see what can grow?

I’m still not certain but I like how I felt when I hugged the tree. I felt peace and an urge to return to what I used to feel and how I used to be and how good it felt to want to take the chance. Maybe I will fail but I won’t know until I try. At least I will know. If I don’t take the chance, I will always be left with wondering what might have happened if I had dared to make the jump.

And there it is. The perpetual question. To stay safe and be left with questions or to jump and find out if we can fly.

I’ll keep you posted. I know it’s scary, but I take inspiration from the many incredible women that are in my life. I want to join them. I want to see if dreams can really come true. Playing chicken is easy but when I hugged the tree, I felt what might be possible. It was incredibly powerful to feel connect to something bigger than what I felt. I hope I have the courage to answer the call and not disconnect. And if chasing dreams means I have to give up a heating steering wheel, well, I know I can always wear gloves.

With love, care and the hope that you feel courageous to follow your dreams,

Shelley

Hugging trees and feeling connected.