If you could know what would happen if you took a leap of faith, life's choices would seem much easier. But, inconveniently, the outcome of a leap of faith cannot be determined in advance. Whenever you trust, or cast fate to the wind, you do so without any empirical evidence that you will ultimately get what you desire. In so doing, you rely on a power beyond yourself, whether or not you align with any particular religious tradition.

In my career counseling practice, I often hear stories of people who have an idea, a longing, a whisper of a plan about their next career move. When these scenarios require a deep breath of letting go because they have no clear outcome, they cross over into the category of "leaps of faith". At that point, I know that the decision-making process will encompass more than the obvious career or job change they desire. I have identified ten characteristics that seem to indicate when work presents this type of a "spiritual challenge" illustrated by the example below.

By the time Tom was 45, he had built a successful small business—a practical choice he made in his thirties based on opportunities and a need to "make a name for himself" in the marketplace. While these reasons were good enough motivators at the time, they began to lose their significance as Tom approached midlife.

In spite of well-intentioned advice to the contrary from family and friends, Tom knew in his heart of hearts that he should close his business. Not only was it creating physical problems for him, but his work's lack of meaning threatened his emotional health as well. The decision to close his business was hard enough without the added stress of not knowing what else he would do for work.

Nonetheless, Tom courageously made the decision to leave the work that had defined his identity and provided a reasonable income for over a decade. Not knowing what path would replace the one he was giving up, Tom took a leap of faith to explore new possibilities.

As he considered his options from many angles, Tom began to identify what really mattered most to him at this phase of his life. This knowledge, coupled with the skills and talents that he wanted to emphasize, focused him in a new direction that fit his criteria.

While many of his friends remarked that he was brave to give up his business, Tom knew that he was compelled to make a change and that his life depended on it.

Tom's scenario reminds me of The Journey, a poem by Mary Oliver:

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting their bad advice –
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do –
determined to save
the only life you could save.

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This year's Women's Retreat in Provence is full! Email me if you'd like to be notified about the next trip in September 2008.