My final day in Jordan, I visited the Jordanian capital of Amman.
It was at the Amman Citadel that I made my final decision regarding my offer of enrollment into the Hollins University MFA in Creative Writing program.
This was a decision that has been weighing heavily on my mind.
When I packed up ship and got out of the military last fall, dozens of my Army friends told me how “courageous” I was. I’m not sure if it was courage. I just felt like I didn’t have an option; in order to keep evolving in life I knew that there was no other choice. There were many facets of the military that I adored, there were many facets of my personality that were well-suited to the military. I’m so grateful for the military and everything it taught me and everywhere it took me.
But my passion was gone by the end.
I believe that every soldier deserves a passionate leader. I realized that staying in wasn’t fair to just me. It wasn’t fair to them, either.
But getting out was scary. And it’s still scary especially since, beginning this fall, I’m throwing myself into the writing field. I’m not even sure if it’s possible to support myself this way. I’ve never needed an awful lot to make me happy. I’ll take a second (or third) job on the side, if that’s what it takes. Still, I’m not even sure if it’s possible to scrape by.
But this is what I love to do.
Life is short and in the end I feel like I have to follow my heart.
Recently, I read The Road Less Traveled by author and psychiatrist Scott Peck. There was a passage in there that really resonated with me and after I read it I knew that I’d made the right decision to get out of the military, even though the future is risky and uncertain.
Scott Peck’s parents sent him to an exclusive boarding school called Exeter when he was an adolescent. They were trying to groom him for an Ivy League education. If he stayed at Exeter and did well, he was virtually guaranteed acceptance into schools like Harvard and Princeton. But after a few months at Exeter, Peck realized that he was unhappy and didn’t want to be there. He decided to quit, despite his parents’ objections.
“If I returned to Exeter I would be returning to all that was safe, secure, right, proper, constructive, proven and known. Yet is was not me. In the depths of my being I knew it was not my path. But what was my path. If I did not return, all that lay ahead was unknown, undetermined, unsafe, unsanctified, unpredictable. Anyone who would take such a path must be mad. I was terrified. But then, at the moment of my greatest despair, from my unconscious there came a sequence of words like a strange disembodied oracle from a voice that was not mine: ‘The only real security in life lies in relishing life’s insecurity.’ Even if it meant being crazy and out of step with all that seemed holy, I had decided to be me. I rested.”
This passage made me realize that life is inherently risky and uncertain. You can either hide from that fact and try to be as secure and safe as possible, or you can let your heart dictate the path.
Today I emailed the Hollins’ MFA director.
“I’m thrilled to accept your offer of admission,” I wrote.