Daryl Wood's Blog

Twenty-nine years ago I met my delightful friend Judy at The Hoffman Process. She was a firebrand at under five feet and had the best dancing shoes I had ever seen. And she was a teacher of The Artist’s Way program. I went through the program with her and this is the line that stayed front and centre, “Leap, and the net will appear.” Working through the book by Julia Cameron I tried on different ideas and experimented with my creativity. I saw myself discovering and recovering both a playfulness and a purposeful way of expressing myself. And I loved that line because it spoke directly to having faith that things will work out, things will come together, things … some things will happen.

Since then, I have leapt so many times I have lost count. I started listing all the wildly BIG leaps I took and wondered how I had ever had the courage to do some of the things I’ve done. For me, they were dreams, ideas, adventures that to a little girl from rural Hornby, Ontario seemed a bit audacious. But a light had sparked in me and with the foundation of self-acceptance from The Hoffman Process, the Artist’s Way program was the perfect catalyst for me stand up and speak out. I’d been following creative endeavours throughout my life so it wasn’t so much that I had never tried. It was the intention behind my leaps that now aligned with a deeper meaning.

Looking back I remembered that I had indeed been surprising myself since my teen years with ambition and focused determination. So what was it about this leaping thing that was different now? I gave it some thought as I recently heard that someone I love has started the program. What it felt like was that I had given myself permission without judgement to reawaken the creativity that was hovering over me. And so a magazine evolved, retreats were birthed, workshops were presented, travelling for training happened, new love, a big move and the list goes on of ways I put my artistry and imagination into being. Even in corporate training sessions with stiff professionals, I introduced playful ways to learn that were embraced and deepened the experience. Who knew I would be bold enough to try so many things? I think I knew. I think knew from a young age that I was willing to be daring even if a little fearful at times.

So here I am two years and three months into my grieving for my beloved Doug. He was my solid supporter and chief encourager even when he wasn’t completely sold on my ideas. Without him, I wondered how I would ever leap again. Or if I even wanted to. But a funny thing happened on the way to writing in my journal. I started listing all the big leaps I’d taken and filled pages because I couldn’t help but go back many decades (at 71 there are a lot of those) and see that it is in my nature to leap. My grandparents leapt. My mother leapt. My father leapt. My siblings and my son are still leaping. It’s in my blood.

And the net has always been there. Always. Sometimes it looked a little frayed and ragged. Sometimes I didn’t think it would hold me. Sometimes I was humbled by those who stood nearby and held the net in place to make sure I was supported. And still, the net has always been there.

Now the leaps are different. I have nothing to prove, not that I think that was a driving force in the past. Right now, the leap is to fill my days with love, kindness and peace for myself and others. The leap is risking my often fragile emotions to be where I am needed and where I am called to. The leap gets me up in the morning with intention and an absolute trust that the net is there and will always be there whether that is my friends, my family, my faith, my community or simply the evidence that I can do hard things.