Wedged among the postcards and Dilbert cartoons on the bulletin board above my desk at home is a torn slip of paper with a quote from American author Henry Miller: Voyages are accomplished inwardly, and the most hazardous ones, needless to say, are made without moving from the spot.

Over and over in the past several months I’ve turned to that quote—and many others pinned near it—as I tackled a most perilous voyage of indecision, fearfully plugged to the spot as I considered two choices:

Stay in my comfortable, well-paying job. Live happily in a wonderful house. Enjoy my fabulous friends and this dear city.

Or, leave everything: responsibility, stability, a reliable income, a hot shower each morning. Toss my mountain bike and golf clubs in the back of my Jeep and head west. Then strap on a backpack and hiking boots and sneak off to New Zealand. And Turkey. And Uruguay. And dozens of places in between.

Thinking about leaving is easy. Having the guts to do it is not.

All of the excuses that are so easy for most 30-somethings to make don’t exist for me. I have no mortgage. No marriage. No children. I have no dog, no cat, no outstanding debt, no commitments, no moral obligations, no court orders restricting travel across state lines. I have saved a little money to boot.

A few words from Voltaire soothes the second-guessing: Double is an uncomfortable condition, but certainty is a ridiculous one. It doesn’t help, however, to read the cautions of Dogen, the Zen master who says: Do not travel far to other dusty lands, forsaking your own sitting place; if you cannot find the truth where year are now, you will never find it. Many friends are convinced that I’m traveling in search of something, whether, it’s inner peace, a soul mate, God or great pad thai. But I don’t look at my plan to roam for year as a quest to find myself. I intend to lose myself—in classic novels, in winding mountain trails, in the company of strangers and new friends.

Reactions to news of my departure ranged from shock to delight to unfettered enthusiasm. Most universal was the response, with a faraway look and an envious sight, “Oh, I with I could do that too.” And I would share with everyone who ever has thought of slipping away for a few months the same words Mississippi writer Eudora Welty shares with me: All serious daring starts from within.

The most difficult part of the journey, I suspect, already has been made.

A fear of irreparable regret finally brought the hazardous, inward voyage to an end. That, and a slip of paper with a quote from Joseph Campbell, a one-word directive so bold in its invitation and so decisive in its simplicity:

Jump.

Lauren Cabell left her job as an assistant graphics editor at the Chicago Tribune this summer to travel the world.