So as to Choose
a woman very fond of her own way
In writing these essays I’ve lately noticed the drafts start with one idea, then wander through various ideas, quotes and anecdotes, and often bring in another closely related idea that I struggle to connect because it feels important to connect them. I’m not sure it’s working, but because I have a self-imposed deadline I eventually have to stop writing. That’s a choice and a discipline.
Today’s essay starts by examining cliff-moment decisions, moves into choice-making, and strives to wrap it all up with an excerpt from Portrait of a Lady and a quote by Saint-Exupéry. Let me know if I hit the mark.
A friend/colleague, Val Nelson, also a wise coach of highly sensitive people, read my post about new offerings from Glorious Ordinary this year. Then we had the following email exchange:
Val: Something big is happening. Like stepping into a new level of confidence and making and sharing. I'm so thrilled to see this for you and for people who get to experience it all.
Me: Yes, it feels like stepping off a cliff :D
Val: Sorry to hear about the cliff feeling. It also seems like you're enjoying it, yes? It feels like you're living into this famous Goethe quote:
The moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that never otherwise would have occurred…. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, Begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.
Me: I love that quote! It's an exciting cliff walk- the wings are there.
Val: Wings!!! So happy to hear. When I imagine cliff moments, I add stairs with a railing, and think of going step by step, with support—the wings are that sense of purpose providing uplift.
Val gently drew me away from the overused stepping-off-a-cliff metaphor. It suggests an individual decision made on the fly, risky with a high possibility for disastrous results—or not—but a big, scary risk is strongly implied.
New offerings, namely, bi-weekly podcast episodes and chat, were a natural expansion of the newsletter. But I’m familiar with cliff moment thinking and action, which I’d characterize as a gut decision to act quickly hoping it will lead to something “better.”
Gut decisions in my twenties (during the late seventies and early eighties) were often made joyfully, buoyed by a desire for adventure and personal agency. I did not embark on a traditional career path after graduating college. My goals were to write, make art and travel. A boyfriend who did not want to travel—or commit—suggested I should travel alone. I did, and discovered I was not only good at it, it was empowering. When friends suggested a destination I went.
Ever been to Sun Valley, Idaho? No? My parent’s have a ranch there. You can stay with them.
Sun Valley was not my first bus trip alone but it was my first trip to an unknown place in a completely new part of the country. I had three hundred dollars in cash, and a backpack with my belongings. Many similar trips followed, including to Houston, Sante Fe, Key West and more. Sometimes I knew people at the destination, often I didn’t.
Solo travel honed my intuition about people and situations. I made mistakes and missed cues, like the time I accepted a ride from a guy in Maine heading to Canada. I didn’t want to go to Canada and I didn’t want to talk about sex and said so. He began shouting. I talked louder and wouldn’t shut up until he let me off as a rest stop, where a sweet couple drove me directly to my destination. In Maine.
Decisions made post divorce in my forties and fifties tended to include a big dose of fear. The decision to enroll in an MFA program at Leslie University after a job loss was a cliff edge leap—an opportunity (I thought) to get a terminal degree, but I dropped out after one semester, afraid of debt, afraid I wouldn’t find work teaching art. But I dispelled another secret fear—that real artists have degrees. After a semester at Lesley, I realized a degree didn’t make me an artist. My belief in myself did.
If I can say anything about my decision-making process, it’s this: I wanted to choose. I still want to choose. I think jumping off cliffs was a way to do what I wanted before others tried to stop or dissuade me, and that implies I was hesitant to explain myself, afraid to be vulnerable and reveal what my heart counseled me to do. Easier to jump first and (maybe) explain or gauge impact later.
There is exhilaration, often great joy and a sense of freedom in leaping but… what else is worth examining before we do?
Portrait of a Lady is a novel by Henry James set in the 1870’s. In an early scene, the protagonist, Isabel Archer, a young American visiting England under the guardianship of her aunt, navigates a customary restraint on female behavior: she cannot stay up late at night in the company of men, including male relatives, without a chaperone. Her elderly aunt is the chaperone and wants to go to bed. Isabel chafes at the restriction.
“You were very right to tell me,” said Isabel. “I don’t understand it, but I’m very glad to know it.”
“I shall always tell,” her aunt answered. “Whenever I see you taking what seems to me too much liberty.”
“Pray do, but I don’t say I shall always think your remonstrance just.”
“Very likely not. You’re too find of your own ways.”
“Yes, I think I am very find of them. But I always want to know the things I shouldn’t do.”
“So as to do them?” asked her aunt.
“So as to choose,” said Isabel.
At first that seems to mean doing what she wants as if the only person she has to consider is herself. She has a generous and innocent heart. She makes thoughtful as well as disastrous choices, not least of which is marrying a petty, gaslighting dilettante who wants her to be his version of a proper wife.
Isabel resists. She simply cannot be someone other than herself, and can’t understand why Gilbert would want that. Hadn’t he married her? But when she realizes the marriage is untenable, she is faced with choices that now include the fates of other people, notably her stepdaughter, Pansy, who she loves.
You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. ~says the Fox to the Little Prince, from The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
And for whomever you love.
It took a long time and a lot of research to figure out where to share my writing. I chose Substack. It was not a cliff leap decision. I thoughtfully planned how I would roll it out because I knew my ultimate responsibility: love the reader by showing up at the promised time with thoughtful, even inspiring, content.
I take that very seriously.
**I’m a mindfulness teacher and coach, helping clients reclaim their attention and deepen their spiritual practices. To work with me, message me on Substack, LinkedIn or through my website. **I write essays and poetry. Contact me for collaborations.
I just read a poem at Stone Circle Review called "Poem Beginning with a Ballerina Music Box and Ending In a Field of Sunflowers." Thought of your question here.
You did hit the mark!