Go out into the depths.

Duc in altum. Put out into the deep.

The sun sank from its zenith and the morale of the fishermen slumped with it. Hungry, thirsty, and tired from a night of fruitless fishing, their bones ached. They longed to return home.

Their captain, however, had different plans. “Duc in altum,” Jesus said. “Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch.” The apostles heard this and were reluctant at first to listen. “Master,” one replied, “we have worked hard all night and have caught nothing.”

Silence. “[B]ut,” he continued, faith rising in the face of skepticism, “at your command I will lower the nets.”

It wasn’t long after casting into deep waters that fish began to fill the nets. So many so that, as the story goes, the nets “were tearing.” (Luke 5:4). Food for the hungry, it turned out, was found not in the shallows, but in the deep.

Now as I sit here, today, thinking about the embers of new beginnings and the pursuit of smoldering passions, I feel my spirit tugging me to do as the apostles did and put out into the deep. Go all in. Almost as if the Muse summoned me to water’s edge in hopes I’ll quit holding onto shore and commit to the blue.

Because only in the depths, she whispers, can you begin to fill the hole in your heart that’s “stupid deep.” Only by loving yourself enough to go all in on the things that call to you will settle your restless spirit and quench your thirsty soul.

And to do anything less is to tell yourself you are not worth betting on. It is to live a life shackled to the security of shore and, as a consequence, die before your time.

But to call up the courage to put out in the deep? To choose rough waters where you are in over your head and caught gasping for air between walloping waves? That, my friend, is where the waters of life flow. Or do I need to remind you that food for the hungry, it turns out, is found not in the shallows, but in the deep?

So whatever it is that calls you, my only request is this: go all in. Stop dipping your toes and take the plunge. Because the only thing halfway measures are good for is ensuring you never get there.

Do me a favor and love yourself enough to let both feet leave the ledge.