A few moons ago (it actually feels like another lifetime, if you ask me), I walked away from law. As dramatic as it sounds, that’s what I actually did (just to clarify, I did not start living on the wilder side of life, although that can be widely debated. I just stopped pursuing law as a career option). After a fit of hysterical laughter, I walked away, left it behind, never to look at it again. It was not a bitter break-up, I feel. It was too impassive to have meant anything. Yet, it meant the world (nay, the universe!) to me.
Somehow, a dreamer somewhere dreamt of seeing me grow as a lawyer. It never made sense to me. Not back then, not even now! But too many things happen in a way that we cannot explain for us to try to explain them… Which is a long and winded way of saying, I, being the greater dreamer, felt that it was the right time to put my own choices first, so, I did. It was something I had contemplated, pondered on for a long time, and there came a moment when I didn’t see any other avenue to follow.
Often, when I talk about how I discovered law was not for me, I am told that quitting it was a very courageous thing to do. Honestly, it felt very stupid at the time, to be so impulsive, irrational almost; yes, even if it felt like the right thing to do. It was also daunting, to say the least, not to know what’s next. If it were up to me, back then, nothing would be next. So much pent-up ambition, and the state of nothingness felt better.
I thought of being a writer and living on the mountains. That seemed a more lucid dream than law, for sure! I thought of becoming a teacher, but I was doubtful whether I was ready to teach anything meaningful (story for another day). I thought of becoming an artist, the kind of poet (or a YouTuber!) who would sit on the beach or in a forest, and write about being a constant traveller. I thought of many things, which I didn’t do… because none of them felt right. None of them felt like I was going to be ‘me’. If truth be told, I have never been happy doing just one thing. And all of the options I considered meant just that – doing one thing, and fitting into the limitations of non-conformism. Fitting in – not something I am a fan of, and it hasn’t been for lack of trying!
In hindsight, all I wanted to do was discover my passion. What would keep me so engaged that I would forget everything else, and dive in, without any care in the world or better yet, with ALL the cares of the world? (Too bad they haven’t come up with professional reader yet.) I like to think of how I peregrinated into the path I am on today. It turns out, quitting was not the courageous thing to do. But starting over (oh, the countless times) – finding that passion and finding myself in the process – that did take courage.
Funny thing is, it’s not something one is conscious of at the time. It hits you afterwards, when you go through, “How on earth did I…?” And there’s a voice that goes, “Well, only you know.”
Why am I telling this story today, of all days? It cannot be unadulterated nostalgia. While I do carry an ever-grateful heart, it’s not only the gratitude. It’s partly the realisation of how I have found addictive joy in the feeling of starting over, which has led me to discovering beautiful (and sometimes, not-so-beautiful) things, which has nourished my perpetual curiosity, which, in turn, has made me smile at what I was afraid of… Simply put, over time, my courage became self-contagious.
Which leads me to the other reason behind this retrospection: courageous things make you stand far from the madding crowd. Somehow, I lose sight of that in the most important moments: I focus more on trying to fit in, rather than letting my courage lead the way. I have always felt energised by doing everything that seem beyond my horizons, and in going after what I love, even though sometimes imposter syndrome threatens to overpower me. Today, that one decision to make my dramatic exit from law does mean the universe to me because it allowed me to meet my contagious friend, Courage, who magnetically draws me to a higher purpose every day. And I don’t want to lose sight of that anymore because my courage doesn’t allow me to give in to passivity! I want to protectively keep my courage close to me: the only way, perhaps, to accomplish many extraordinary things.
So, I want to remind myself (and I know how I need reminders!), whenever things seem murky and I don’t see the specks of bright blue sky, “Keep going. I’m rooting for you.”
wordsfordreamers 
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