To my very dear friends

Many years ago, I studied and wrote a dissertation on a very great book: A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. And, like all books that became important to me, it has steered the course of my life in some way.

Even the title: A Tale of Two Cities echoes the two worlds I have lived in up until now. Trying to fit myself into this reality with its burdensome marketing mentality, dumbing myself down in order to be seen, whilst inhabiting an energetic and generous space beyond this (some may call it the spiritual realms- though I never have).? Pushing forward with ‘business’ and then pulling back because it just doesn’t make sense to me.

But there is a character in the opening chapter of this book: a prisoner. A nameless prisoner- nameless because he has forgotten he ever had a name; he is only identified by a number. And he works, tirelessly, mindlessly (soullessly) crafting shoes to fill each hour of his captivity. Until one day he receives a visit from two gentlemen- the first truly human faces he has seen for more years than he can remember. We are friends, they say. And they furnish him with his name. A message is sent to his friends in England: ‘Recalled To Life’

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I was that prisoner. Since 2005, until my daughter was born in 2015, I expended most of my energy in ‘proving’ that I deserved my space on this earth. After my daughter was born I have been like Dr Manette (for that was the prisoner’s name), tapping and hammering away at what I thought mattered but was in fact a distraction from what actually matters: living life: embracing fully all aspects of being alive.

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I was unable to live, to rest, to be present. I MUST follow this driving force, urging me day and night to achieve something, to fulfill myself, above all other things, above all other beings in my life- including me. I moved to Montenegro and brought my box with me!

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I realised this summer that I was deeply unhappy. I wanted so many things: kindness, a greener space to live in, access to the open sea, time to myself in a cabin in the mountains, not to mention a guarantee that I would have the money for Elona’s school fees. And all I could see was that I must work harder, I must optimise SEO, I must, above all other things, make money.?

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The time for the next True Grit was rapidly approaching. I couldn’t relax or sleep, afraid that I didn’t have what it took to ‘make this work’. What would my topic be this time? Maybe I should choose something that would hook people in??

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Two weeks ago, my body finally gave up- or took over -depending which way you look at it. I was unable to take part in life. This has happened to me before. And, just like before, I was eventually recalled to life. When I opened my eyes on a new world, I was once again moved by that strong knowing that led me through the last True Grit. I knew just what to do, when to do it; and I fought it kicking and screaming but did it anyway. I took the first stumbling steps- determined not to manipulate with my Facebook live videos. They were messy but real. And with that willingness to show up beyond the constrictions and expectations of this limited reality; without the expectation that anyone should see or even care about my small act of presence, the final piece was given to me.

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So today for many reasons, I am given the chance to start truly living before I die. I have given up, and have chosen my True Grit topic, which is: Diving Into Failure. And with this one choice I am free. I am free to be and do whatever I choose. I am free to lie in the sun, knowing that I will be guided and supported. I am free to linger over coffee and fail laughingly at speaking Montenegrin, free to relax, to swim in the sea, to watch white curtains billow in the sun.?

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I know I will not charge money for True Grit. I will not market it and promote it. I will live True Grit- the art of failure- my whole life and share that with generosity- my natural state of being. I am a philosopher-explorer, I always have been. I am not a marketer- I never will be.

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I may fail to support myself, I may fail to provide the school fees, I may fail to pay the rent. But I was failing anyway- I have just decided to do it with style.?

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If we ask, commit and then let go- everything is given to us. Everything. More than we have asked for. All we have to do is stop fighting. This is what we have been distracting ourselves from for the whole of our lives.

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I am so grateful to share in your journey,

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Jessica