Decisions, part deux

I'm involved in a program that asks us to "turn our will and our lives over to the care of God" -- and I'm trying, swear to G*d, I'm trying -- but I'm not sure I know what that looks like.  What activities are involved?  Passive waiting for a beam of light seems wrong.  As does tip-toeing around listening for that "still small voice."  At the end of the day, I feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark hoping I bump into something that's right for me.

How do people do it?  I'm reading Twyla Tharp's book, The Creative Habit, and drooling with envy over how she knew, so young, exactly what she wanted to do. And did it.

I feel like I've never known.  Or maybe I do, but the voices of dissent are so fast and sure that anything that comes up is shot down before it has a chance to breathe.  For example:

April: What do I love?  Baking!  Always wanted to open a bakery.  In Rhinebeck.  Culinary school!  Apply to the CIA in Napa, get some credentials, move back east, open the bakery!  (clock ticking, calendar pages turning)  Wait a minute -- I'll be leaving school with debt and no guarantee of work.  Maybe I should hold off until this becomes more clear.... August:  I really miss my family and friends, I'm tired of Los Angeles, I should just go back home, get a cute place in Rhinebeck, be where I want to be, leap of faith and all that.  I can always go to the CIA in Hyde Park....but wait, shouldn't I have a job before making the leap?  Yes, I think....September:  Attend business planning workshop.  Brilliant!  Inspired, energized, motivated, I will make a product out of my business know-how, seasonal, work only a few months per year and have time to pursue baking....wait, this will take time to develop....October:  I know!  I'll work some more, just until.

And the ancient calliope starts to turn once again.  

Here's the secret:  Just until never comes, baby.  Just ask the gerbil in the wheel -- the only way to change is to jump off.  And I'm inching towards the edge of the high dive.  I really am.