What’s the biggest risk you’d like to take — but haven’t been able to?
What’s the biggest risk I’d like to take but, I haven’t yet?
Walking away from the time clock for the most part and toward the trailhead.
See, I’m an STNA (that’s Ohio’s term for CNA everywhere else. We just had to be the different one). I love what I do. Yes we all need money to live in this hellscape. But I love it not for the paycheck, but for the people. The elderly deserve care from those people who care to be there. However, I also dream of caring for my own future with the same hands that hold theirs.
The risk?
Transitioning from working full-time and then some weekly for someone else’s company to working full-time for myself for Poeaxtry_.
My goal is that with-in the next five years, I will flip the ratio.
I want Poeaxtry_ to sustain me, not the other way around.
I can only imagine being able to wake up and know that my “job” is carving smiles into stones, engraving good karma into keychains, and polishing perfect statement pieces. All from rocks I’ve hounded myself.
To be able to sell handmade spell bags, wands, tinctures, sprays, and charms born from dirt and devotion not just in my spare time.While I also publish solo poetry collections (mine and other people’s) and community anthologies that spark conversation, change, and creativity not just sales.
Having a designated divination room, sounds so good almost too good to be true. A place for friends and new folks to get readings: pendulum or tarot. Readings set-up virtually or through local appointments.
Imagine being able to travel, explore, hike, forage, and rockhound in the wild. While sharing accessible adventures for those who can’t get out there. Or can, but need the guidance to do so safely.
Hosting open mic nights that echo through real and virtual rooms along with silent art galleries that speak without sound. Creating and collaborating under The Prism, where inclusion and artistry collide.
I will not wait for retirement to live.
I want to be able to grab my tent, my dog Luna, and my laptop, (other essentials obviously) and just go.
I can just see it now: a few nights backpacking through forests, collecting stone from stream, writing wildly under the moonlight. Where the only deadlines are sunrise and the next cup of coffee.
The poetry I’d write out there untouched, unbothered by society’s static crust.. would probably make my current work look like warm-ups. Honestly, I’m so ready for that.
The biggest risk I haven’t taken yet isn’t quitting, but it’s believing, fully, that I can.
Five years from now, I plan to look back and laugh that I ever questioned it.
One thing I am no longer willing to do is give more of me to the “man.” The shackles that have me captive to society and cities are becoming loose.
