I have been sitting in front of this computer on and off for days, trying to think of a way to start. It's a strange thing, isn't it, to start? A run of simple words, a jump, a shout, a whisper, a caress. How to start?
In the quiet of my own mind, and in the constant ebb and flow of days, the staccato rhythms of life with children, animals, cars, telephones, people; to choose a moment, and to expound and play its strings, seems easier than it is. Now. Now is the time.
So how do we start?
Courage is choosing a path without a map, not knowing if it's the right road. But it seems to be a road, at least, or maybe it's a way through the trees, up the mountain, through the water, toward the sun. Will it go as you have planned, will it lead you where you want to go? Probably not, at least not the way you expected it to, or maybe not even close. It will change you, it will hurt you, it will give you breadth and wonder, it will touch you with burning hands, drop you off the end of the known. But it won't be what you want, and if it is, what you want will most likely end up being nothing more than the vague edges of understanding; and you will meet the real landscape with skepticism, perhaps, or enthusiasm, but certainly with a sense of smallness. Seek the insignificance, or you will never know who you are. There is so much more. So, so much more. How to begin? Courage is moving your feet, starting is choosing, and safety is an illusion, and has to be let go. I'm tying my laces, packing a meal (or two) and looking toward the furthest point to choose my tack, my heart on the horizon.
In the quiet of my own mind, and in the constant ebb and flow of days, the staccato rhythms of life with children, animals, cars, telephones, people; to choose a moment, and to expound and play its strings, seems easier than it is. Now. Now is the time.
So how do we start?
Courage is choosing a path without a map, not knowing if it's the right road. But it seems to be a road, at least, or maybe it's a way through the trees, up the mountain, through the water, toward the sun. Will it go as you have planned, will it lead you where you want to go? Probably not, at least not the way you expected it to, or maybe not even close. It will change you, it will hurt you, it will give you breadth and wonder, it will touch you with burning hands, drop you off the end of the known. But it won't be what you want, and if it is, what you want will most likely end up being nothing more than the vague edges of understanding; and you will meet the real landscape with skepticism, perhaps, or enthusiasm, but certainly with a sense of smallness. Seek the insignificance, or you will never know who you are. There is so much more. So, so much more. How to begin? Courage is moving your feet, starting is choosing, and safety is an illusion, and has to be let go. I'm tying my laces, packing a meal (or two) and looking toward the furthest point to choose my tack, my heart on the horizon.