Last night I dreamed of a massive river, flowing down a massive mountain. I was riding the tumbles and rapids of the river; in my dream I knew this water well, like an old friend. The water was clear blue, deep, moving swiftly.

I came upon a fork in this mighty river. To the left, the river moved gracefully down the mountain, with stairs under the water, offering safe passage to those traveling with the current. To the right, the water soared over a cliff, tumbling into an even greater body of water hundreds of feet below. The turquoise beauty of it called to me like a siren, urging me to jump.

I knew in my dream that I had made this jump before. My heart pounded contemplating it, with excitement and also deep fear of the unknown…would I survive it? Would I enjoy it?

I wasn’t ready. There was a cabin perched atop the river, built to overlook the waterfall and harness the potent energy of the moving water. A small bed and table inside, I made myself a little home there. A friend visited; I’m not sure why she was there…perhaps we were both preparing to jump.

In any case, I feel now like I am still perched atop this waterfall, preparing for a jump I know I’ve done before. I know there is the option to take the “safer” choice. I know either choice is okay—there is no wrong way to go in nature. All is learning, all is growth. I also know I love the exhilaration of the jump, and the rush I feel when I choose radical trust in myself, and radical trust in the Earth, radical trust in each step (or leap) she guides me towards.

We are here, our options and distractions and to-do lists ripped away from us, challenging us to live fully in this present moment, to tend to our bodies and our hearts and our loved ones. Forcing us to surrender to the unknown. And so I ask myself: what is known to me? What desires and dreams live in my body that have been patiently (or not so patiently) waiting for me to leap into with radical trust, waiting behind a barrage of reasons why “the timing isn’t right yet.”

The timing is now. It is time to create what is stirring in our hearts and bodies, for under this layer of late winter snow, there is life beneath, fighting to survive. It is getting ready to crack out of the egg, to sprout forth from the ground, to be born from our souls now that excuses and routine tasks, work and school and social obligations, have been cleared away from.

It’s time to write the thing, paint the thing, feel the thing, express the thing, in whatever way it’s coming through us now. We know our lives cannot be the same after this. We know we must do things differently. We know this starts with RIGHT NOW. How are we showing up to ourselves RIGHT NOW? We can no longer travel outside of us (for the foreseeable future), it’s time to travel within.