An Explorer’s Guide To Swimming in the Deep End

In October of 2015, I stepped on a plane with a suitcase and a one-way ticket to Prague.

After months of feeling restless, and knowing that something in my life needed to change — but unsure what that something might be — I had decided to spend a year crisscrossing the globe, living in 12 different cities and working remotely. At least, that was the plan. Adventurous enough, right?

Then came a curveball. A few weeks before hitting the road, I learned that my two biggest clients were downsizing their contracts. Suddenly the “working” bit of my “living and working” travel equation had a small army of question marks hovering around it. And with that, my adventure turned into a full-on swan dive into the unknown.

Enter: plane, suitcase, and one-way ticket.

The next 365 days were thrilling, terrifying, confusing, wondrous, heady, uncertain, frustrating and beautiful. And pretty much everything in between. It wasn’t a neat or straightforward journey (are they ever?), and at times it wasn’t pretty. But it was absolutely, completely worth it.

What I learned through taking that wild leap has altered the way I think, and the way I approach challenges and see opportunities. It has changed my sense of what’s possible. I’m now a hundred times more comfortable living in ambiguity, and less afraid of what might happen if I try something brave or risky. I know myself better, and trust myself more. I occupy my own skin more fully and more easily as a seeker, a connector, and an engaged actor in the world.

What is your next big leap? It might be personal or professional, geographical or relational. Whether you’re teetering on the cliff-edge of something new, or are already in midair — I’m cheering you on. Here are eight keys I’ve found to surviving, navigating, and staying sane during a big leap:

Embrace the chaos of dislocation.

Leaping, by definition, takes you out of your comfort zone. It’s disorienting. But there’s a sneaky silver lining to being in the deep end of transition, and it’s this: vulnerability feeds creativity. Being disconnected from your usual anchors (home, schedule, routine, familiar people and places) frees up room in the brain for new ideas to spark. And science backs this up: neuroscientists say that bombarding the brain with new experiences scrambles existing categories and forges new connections — which boosts creative thought. Fire away, synapses!

Make space for the new to come.

I carried only a suitcase and a backpack for much of my round-the-world journey, and found that this physical act of minimizing and simplifying actually contributed to an increased inner sense of freedom and openness, too. I could see and entertain all sorts of new possibilities, simply because I now had room for them. Creating some open space (by clearing out actual stuff, reconfiguring a room, or carving out a corner of your schedule) can help make space in your subconscious for things you haven’t seen or imagined yet.

Trust your gut.

You know more than you think you do. Listen to your intuition.

Choose the long view.

Big changes can happen instantaneously — stepping on a plane, quitting a job, accepting a marriage proposal. The journey of transition from the old reality to the new one, though, is more often measured in months and years rather than moments. Recognize that leaping is a long game, not a sprint, and lean into the process. (For more on navigating transition, this book is excellent.)

Try a different route.

When you get stuck (not if), remember that there’s another way to do what you need to do, or get where you need to go. Take a deep breath, and get a decent night’s sleep. Have some good coffee. Then, go find it.

Talk to lots of people. Ask lots of questions.

Curiosity is a fantastic survival tool. When tempted to seek direction through a screen or endless cycles of mental analysis, get out and have a conversation with someone instead.

Enjoy being a beginner.

Change = incompetence. But, being the newbie has some distinct advantages. Give yourself the freedom to stop pretending that you’re proficient (which, let’s be honest, is really the only option when you’re completely out of your depth). It can be surprisingly fun to move through the world as a confident but honest beginner.

Take notes.

Notice what speaks to you, and pay attention to it. Keep a journal or a sketchbook with you, or take voicenotes on your phone. Keep some kind of record of the experience — what you see, what you think, what you’re wondering about, what you know.

The future belongs to those who leap. Carpe diem!

Originally published at the-reframe.com on October 24, 2017.