This morning while on the bus, I read the following in The Places That Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times by Pema Chödrön. (Hey Zenchick. Lay off me for not knowing how to pronounce her name correctly. Geesh.)

"All too frequently we relate like timid birds who don't dare to leave the nest. Here we sit in a nest that's getting pretty smelly and that hasn't served its function for a very long time. No one is arriving to feed us. No one is protecting us and keeping us warm. And yet we keep hoping mother bird will arrive."

She goes on to ask: "Do I prefer to grow up and relate to life directly, or do I choose to live and die in fear."

This was one of those moments that hits you. A light shines down. A crack in the dam releases a trickle of water and can ultimately become a flood.

Although it seems like a lifetime ago, I remember very vividly my life in Oklahoma prior to moving to Arizona. I was miserable. I felt like a complete failure. A college graduate managing a small department in a retail giant barely making above minimum wage. I'd get up every morning with a definite "time to make the donuts" mentality. A gay man in a small city of only a hand full of homos. Every day I felt my life slipping further and further away from me. I'd go to work, come home, watch TV or read and go to bed. I was that timid bird in a smelly nest.

Once I decided to move to Arizona, I was rejuvenated. I felt alive for the first time in a very, very long time. It was an exciting, scary adventure, but I was ready for it. I packed all my things and The Cat and drove under the cover of night into the desert. I smoked too many cigarettes and listened to Live and The Refreshments over and over. I'd talk to The Cat who was drugged up, yet very unhappy in his pen in the backseat. I was on my way to a new life.

It was very exciting at first. A big city with highways and malls and many more job opportunities than my little hamlet had to offer. I found a new job quickly and found myself transforming into someone new. New job, new friends, new experiences. I was refreshed and looked at the world with new eyes.

After a few years, I found myself settling in to old patterns. Slowly depression and fear kept me alone at home. I withdrew from those I loved and felt afraid to break out of the confines I created. Although hundreds of miles away, I felt very much the same as I did living in Oklahoma.

The rest of the story you've probably already read. The past several months have been remarkable and I truly feel like a new man. I have left many nests to get where I am. I no longer wait for mother bird. I'm not saying I am nest-free, but there are fewer in my cul-de-sac than there were before.

In the beginning of her book, Chödrön speaks of a lesson she learned when she was a little girl.

"We can let circumstances of our lives harden us so that we become increasingly resentful and afraid, or we can let them soften us and make us kinder and more open to what scares us. We always have this choice."

A couple weeks ago, I was talking with a friend who is also making a concentrated effort to date too. We were talking about the process of dating and the ultimate rewards. I asked her if she was ready to experience that whole tingly, on Cloud Nine? feeling that comes in the beginning with a boy you like. She said she didn't think she'd be able to feel that way again. I asked her why. She said that maybe it's because she's older now or maybe it's because of her divorce, but she believes that part of her is dead now.

I just sat there looking at her, wishing I knew what to say, but I knew I could offer nothing to help her, so I sat in silence. I felt very sad for her but knew that I could not help her. She has to help herself. She has to choose to accept the fear and pain that life brings her to open her heart instead of letting it become calloused and impenetrable.

I felt both powerless and very sad for her as I sat there, thinking about my own heart. Taking risks, whether it is a transition such as creating a new life, searching for a new job, or dating, always leaves us venerable. And it is a very scary place to be. But oh, the rewards we earn from taking that kind of leap are so very worth it.

and they can call me crazy if I fail
all the chance that I need
is one-in-a-million
and they can call me brilliant
if I succeed
gravity is nothing to me
moving at the speed of sound
I'm just gonna get my feet wet
until I drown

— Ani DiFranco - Swan Dive