The call to adventure is like an itch that must be scratched. The foot that needs to tap. The stillness that must move.
One day you’re going about your routine; you’re cooking dinner, sitting at your desk, walking on the treadmill, or driving home, and the call moves through you like a gust of wind. You may not recognize the call at first. You may shrug it off as a fleeting thought—a daydream. But this wind of your spirit cannot be ignored. It is inescapable and, at first, may feel like a tingly fear in your heart space. This is quite normal because fear shows up in our heart space to get our attention. Fear says, “Get ready. Something remarkable is about to happen.”
The call to live your most divine life will break through the silence of your comfortable world. Your call may come in the form of a child, a stranger, or a feeling of fulfillment from an unexpected encounter with the messenger of a recent life lesson. Your call to adventure is the feeling that lifts you, pulls you, maybe even drags you to a brightly lit vantage point. From this place somewhere between hope and heaven your call to adventure sits with you, screams in your ear, and prods you to move and dance and sing. Your heart knows the melody and all the lyrics, but your mind is still processing. Listen closely because your call to adventure will awaken you by clanging the heart gong of your soul.
You may ignore it at first. Actually, you might ignore it—refuse it—for years. And then one day you won’t be able to resist any longer. Even though you’re afraid of the answer, you ask, “Is that what I’ve come here to do with my life? Is that what connects me to a greater divine purpose?”
You will be terrified. Fear and ego will tell you to choose comfort. But your gift will demand that you choose courage.
Imagine this: You’re a single man, but you’ve always wanted to be a father. Your call whispered this to your soul before your were born. But for years you’ve resisted the call. Fear and self-doubt strangled your heart. When the call first struck the gong of your spirit, it was muffled—almost imperceptible. Years passed. Joy from this unfulfilled dream was bound and gagged by fear. A treasure chest of miracles was waiting to be opened—dusty from the ashes of a burning desire. The key to unlock the bounty of your glory had been sewn into your soul lifetimes ago. You knew the key was there, but you chose comfort over courage and ignored the call—unable to see that the only reason you were on earth was to love and be loved unconditionally.
Then one day something shifted in your heart and mind. It was at that moment that your quest began. As every quest does, it began with a tectonic shift of your heart that exposed the seismic question that would no longer be ignored: What have I come here to do with my life? No longer paralyzed by denial, you snuggled up to the fear that had once strangled your heart and asked, “What are you here to teach me, my friend?”
Maybe your call to adventure is to teach, or preach, or write, or rock babies, or to bring love to those feeling unworthy of love. Your call to adventure plays in the same key and to the same melody as your truth. The two are inseparable. The call shouts, “Awaken to the reality of your worthiness and paint a circle of grace around your authentic self, using the colors of love and self-acceptance.” This circle of grace is the launching pad for a life that propels you directly toward the Divine.
Now, before you rush off, sit in the quiet storm of your journey and answer these three questions—each with one or two words.
1. Why am I here?
2. What do I seek?
3. How far will I go?
Write these questions and your answers down on a piece of paper. Then stick this paper in a place where you’ll see it every day. Your tendency may be to keep your answers private, but to experience powerfully redemptive living you need to sing your truth from the mountaintop of self-acceptance.
“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” Howard Thurman