We’re always on the bathroom floor. We’re always holding some kind of invitation from the universe, and we are arguing — I’m not ready, I’m not good enough, I need to take another class, I need to lose ten pounds, I need to be more like her. We are deeming ourselves unworthy of the invitation instead of trusting the inviter. Creativity doesn’t ask us to be ready first. It finds us on the bathroom floor, hands us an invitation and says, don’t wait until you’re ready. Just get up and dance with me. Glennon Doyle

Sometimes life thrusts us into a new beginning. Death, a breakup, job loss, a move, divorce, a chronic illness. We might fight the change or find ourselves dragged into it kicking and screaming but there are people or forces outside of our control who have decreed, “It is time.” These are often the new beginnings we never saw coming, didn’t ask for and don’t want. But the universe doesn’t care. “Start over,” it says. “Begin again.” Our only choice is whether or not to find the meaning, embrace the change, make the best of it.

Then there are the occurrences we choose, grabbing on with both hands, welcoming them into our lives. A promotion, a shiny romance, a baby, a new home. Busy with excitement and anticipation, we forget that these new beginnings are also goodbyes. A letting go, a moving on, a moving away. The underside of change is loss, and no change comes without a dose of sadness for what no longer is.

Sometimes the universe calls, but we don’t answer. Too busy curled up on the bathroom floor, hiding from life or confusing busyness with joy, we don’t respond to the invitation. Maybe we’re in denial about having outgrown the relationship or having hit a wall in the job, about our life having become too small. Or maybe we’re just too busy clinging to the familiarity of the known. Sameness can be easy, seductive, comforting, safe.

Or maybe we’re at the top of our game. Flying high. Life unfolding as we’d always hoped it would. Too blissful or too distracted to notice what’s missing or see the crack that’s beginning to form. Not interested in switching careers, partners or locations, we turn down the invitation to dance. Yet the universe persists. Continuing to whisper the possibility. Offering again. Patiently waiting for us to see the truth about what’s not there and perhaps never will be.

Sometimes we decide it’s time to burn it all down. We light the match and watch life as we’ve known it go up in flames. We might not even know why, responding instinctively to a feeling that it’s time to trust the promise of the new path. Believing that the way will be shown and the right doors will open, we ignore the voice of the inner critic or the all-knowing friend or family member who says “You can’t …”, “You shouldn’t ..”, “You mustn’t ..”, “The time is wrong, the circumstances are wrong ..”, “You are not enough ..” trusting that the people who love us and other concerned citizens may not know what’s best.

We spend our lives in the both/and – broken and whole, scared and ready, unprepared and enough. Feet on the ground, arms open wide, face looking up at the stars. We could trip, or we could fly. The only way to know is to say ‘yes’ to the universe’s invitation, to get up off the bathroom floor and try.