Confidence in the resolve

A friend warned that jumping to Los Angeles again without a plan is probably not the best plan. He's always been reasonable and clever. It's because of his advice and direct help that I've gotten jobs on the East Coast. So I listen. The challenge now however is that reason isn't being followed.

What's being done is completely unreasonable. This is the third time I've jumped to Los Angles, in a configuration not too different from the others. The first time, I had very little savings, very little focus and a very limited amount of time to get it all together. It was a failure. The second time was absolute luck. I had grown desperately angry about being on the East Coast. That fueled a series of events that allowed me to land a job before leaving to LA and a place to stay just days before touchdown. Each time resulted in homelessness.

It's reasonable to say there should be some measure of planning to accommodate a soft landing. It's reasonable to suggest that having a job before leaving is the best way to go. That makes logical sense. However what's being followed is a commitment to being intimate with the moment.

There's a certain confidence in the resolve that creates a comfort and sense of stability with whatever arises in the moment. Whatever happens, I'm still here. Another friend says it quite eloquently, "I'm not dead yet."

I can't convince anyone, not even myself, of what that experience is like. I feel grounded, and there isn't a reasonable explanation as to why. What's apparent is that decision-making comes spontaneously and there is a drive toward following through with whatever the decision is.

Los Angeles has been a goal since returning to the East Coast. There wasn't a rush, it was simply an expectation lingering in the background. Then one day most recently, while casually thinking about LA, a voice pierced through sharply, "I'm ready to be back in Los Angeles." That's all it took. It's like something clicked and the entire process oriented itself toward another jump.

There was a poem that came up some years ago after my first time to LA:

And here I stand
In full command of my fear
Thinking, wishing, dreaming
That I can be that thing I see
Standing far before me
With air that breathes my lungs
Words that touch the tip of my tongue
And arms that reach out for mine.
This is the moment I rise!
And yet, there's a pause.
For what cause? I don't know.
But it goes to show that even in the moment of inspiration
There's a stagnation to our ability
We're only human, you and I
Why reach for the stars when we'll just
And die?
Why push past every obstacle that's in our way?
Freedom doesn't lie there.
It tells the truth.
And that's what I need:
The honesty to believe in something
Ridiculously impossible that it takes
All of me to be.
Baby, I'm on track!
To where? Who cares.
I wouldn't dare stand in the face of fear
Without the confidence to make it shed a tear.
No, this fear belongs to me
And here I stand, in full command.

This is my manifesto.
Whatever fear there was has burned away, singed by the friction of another launch. It's all completely unreasonable, but whatever space is left by the absence of logic is filled with total joy. There is peace and confidence in the undercurrent of the moment. I'm going with the flow.