Imagine standing at the edge of Niagara Falls, watching Charles Blondin, the famous tightrope walker, make his way across the roaring waterfall on a thin, fragile rope. Every step he takes feels miraculous, as if he’s defying what’s humanly possible. The crowd watches, holding its breath.
Then, Blondin does something even more daring. He grabs a wheelbarrow and asks if anyone in the crowd is willing to hop in while he pushes it across the tightrope. Suddenly, the thrill turns to fear. It’s one thing to watch someone else do the impossible, but it’s a different story entirely to trust your life to that same feat. Who would dare get in that wheelbarrow?
This story often serves as a metaphor for believing in possibility—for taking risks, for trusting that something bigger and more magical will guide us across.
In the past, I’ve definitely jumped into that wheelbarrow without much thought. I’ve been halfway across the wire and had that "Oh shit, what have I done?" moment more than once. Yet at the same time there was an aliveness to those decisions. A belief that life didn’t need to just be a grind of stability and responsibility.
Once again, I feel like I’m at that choice point again. Wanting so badly to leap into possibility, but the weight of real-life obligations pulls me back. Wanting to believe in magical synchronicities, but being attached to things like rent, groceries, and making sure my kid isn’t eating cereal for dinner again.
Last week’s eclipse felt like a cosmic reminder of this tension—Neptune, the planet of dreams, collided with Saturn, the planet of cold, hard reality. It was like the universe handed me a neon sign: "Hey, you still struggling with this? Well, guess what—so is the entire solar system." Thanks for that, universe.
“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing...” Helen Keller
What If There is a Third Option?
I’ve always loved that quote by Helen Keller. Put that way who would pick nothing? But what if she’s wrong.
Keller’s quote leaves me caught in an either-or choice point but what if Saturn isn’t telling me to stay on the safe and yes perhaps soul crushing land but to build a safety net under the tightrope. What if Saturn’s message isn’t about choosing security over dreams, but about finding a way to honor both?
Maybe it doesn’t have to be a black-and-white decision between playing it safe and chasing the dream. Instead of rejecting one for the other, I can find a way to weave the two together. Saturn isn’t here to crush dreams—it’s here to make sure that when I take risks, they’re grounded in stability. It’s not about staying on land—it’s about making sure I don’t fall.
Can You Still Be a Badass Even with a Safety Net?
In so many ways, I’ve already stepped into the wheelbarrow, trusting that I’ll be carried across. But now, as I look at my life, I feel like I’m being asked to pause and assess my safety nets—not as barriers to adventure, but as tools that allow me to take bigger, more secure steps. The fear that comes up, though, is real: that time is running out. I worry that if I spend too much time building security, the tightrope might disappear, and I’ll be stuck on land forever. Will I still have time to chase my dreams once I’ve secured my footing? It’s hard to believe that dreams have their own divine timing, and sometimes, the most powerful thing I can do is focus on building the stability I need today.
For so long, I saw safety nets as a detour from the adventure—as if putting energy into stability would dull the excitement of possibility. But now, I’m learning (emphasize on learning) to honor my safety nets, to see them not as a compromise but as a way to lean deeper into the adventure. The stronger my foundation, the higher I can reach.
It’s not about choosing between stability and excitement—it’s about realizing that responsibility enables daring. The safety net I build now is what will allow me to take those big leaps, knowing that I have something to catch me. It’s like realizing that reading the instructions before building furniture doesn’t ruin the experience—it just makes sure the whole thing doesn’t collapse on you later.
Balancing Saturn and Neptune: Dreaming with Stability
Saturn and Neptune don’t have to be at war with each other. I used to think they were polar opposites—Saturn with its rigid discipline and Neptune with its wild, dreamy expansiveness. But I’ve realized they’re two sides of the same coin. Saturn builds the structure that supports Neptune’s dreams.
I’m starting to see that Saturn’s discipline can be what allows me to trust Neptune’s magic. The practical steps I take toward creating stability aren’t about abandoning my dreams. In fact, they’re what will allow me to dream even bigger, because I’ll know I’m supported, no matter what happens.
Neptune invites me to take that leap of faith, while Saturn helps me build the net that ensures I’ll be okay even if things don’t go according to plan. It’s not a choice between them—it’s about letting them work together.
The Gentle Reminder
I need to remind myself that I don’t have to choose between responsibility and possibility. I can craft a life that honors both. Building a safety net doesn’t mean I’m abandoning my dreams or the call to adventure — it means I’m creating the freedom to pursue them more fully, without the constant fear of falling.
If getting in the wheelbarrow feels impossible right now, maybe it’s because I’m still in the process of building my net. And that’s okay. I need to trust that when the time comes, with the right foundation beneath me, I’ll know when to leap.
Oh Maureen! This reflection so resonates with me! In 1997, I made a lateral move as a freelance keyboard accompanist to classroom music. I did so for an increase in the financial stability needed for our household. I was at the top of my performance game~~able to sightread music that I never dreamed would be within my capacity to do. The joy and nourishment I received as a performing musician was tremendous. It was so painful an grief filled to leave my performance career.
Do I regret the decision to make that lateral move? Not at all. Was there unspeakable grief that chased me through the next two decades because I did not recognize how foundational playing (and sharing, i.e., "performance,") were to my neurobiological regulation? Yes. Annnnd ... Over the years I have discovered (to quote you): "...I don’t have to choose between responsibility and possibility. I can craft a life that honors both. Building a safety net doesn’t mean I’m abandoning my dreams or the call to adventure — it means I’m creating the freedom to pursue them more fully, without the constant fear of falling."
I have crafted a life beyond my wildest dreams. I showed up responsibly with dignity, integrity and courage to increase the possibilities in my children's lives. The wheelbarrow analogy across Niagara Falls brings a jolt to my heart! However, using that analogy: I have a house full of wheelbarrows! All of them have brought me safely to shores I never knew were mine to inhabit. Thank you so much, Maureen, for this tremendously insightful and vulnerable shared story of your lived, and still living, experience.
Maureen, you know me better than most people and you know that I struggle when I sense that I am drifting away from adventure or risk or following my dreams - whatever you want to call it. There are a lot of people who actually prefer to LIVE in the safety net; it is where they WANT to be and that's great. No judgement here. But I think that what you are describing is a constant dance, made even more complex when you are dancing solo as a single Mom (as we both are). I think about Maslow's hierarchy of needs and yes, it is hard to think about the next adventure when one is scrambling to figure out how to put food on the table or pay the mortgage or cover the Grad boat cruise fees. I also want to MODEL what it means to live fully to my kids - even if that includes having to be super resourceful and creative with what I have. In my adult life there has always been an ebb and a flow to my financial buoyancy, and that has informed where and how my "WILD" shows up. Yes, at one point it meant picking up and moving to Bali. (That felt liuke 90% dream and 10% safety net) But now, back in BC, with some other responsibilities, the adventure shows up in other ways - like learning to DJ at 50 and dancing until sunrise and swimming in phosphorescence. In the current chapter of my life, where I am also needed by my parents, the magic needs to be infused in smaller bursts, punctuating my otherwise pretty responsible and safety-net oriented life. I think part of it is the lens through which we look as what defines our "dreams." Do they need to be massive shifts or can we build rich elements of our dreams into pockets of our lives to maintain that spark? Tantric yoga is an embodied practice - meaning finding the divine in the everyday experience. Thich Nat Hanh talks about an experience of washing dishes with total presence that, through his lens, is as rich and rewarding as reaching Everest. Im not saying forget the cycling trip across Tibet, but if the timing isn't right, there are ways to infuse the safety net lifestyle with great magic. A psychedelic journey? A single day retreat in silent medication. Radical self-care? A boudoir photoshoot and a pole-dancing class? There is a middle way that one can take when it feels like you can't be standing 100% in your dream state. And as others have shared, maybe doing so is exactly what needs to happen in order for the next big door to open. Mary Oliver writes: "Tell, me, what is it that you plan to do with this one wild and precious life?" I used to always think it was BIG adventures to which she was referring. But now I think it means (for me anyway), remembering stillness and presence. There are adventures and opportunities for rich and transformational experiences everywhere. In a year or two, both of my kids will be launched and the shape of the safety net will look different. For now, I will celebrate a definition and manifestation of magic and dreams that fits this chapter...