I have been infected with regularity and terrified of going on as I began. I feel I am resting at the bottom of a mountain, having walked a long, long way. The depth and breadth of what came before stops me in my tracks. And as I look up I know what’s at the top.
At least I think I know. The key to understanding rests on faith alone, and it’s a delicate balancing act. Are her shoulders really so broad?
A nun told me it’s resting a stick against a wall. Easier said than done, and often enough my hands shake. There is an art to not being bothered by that imbalance. It is life, this standing on one leg, holding to the earth with one toe.
And if I fall, I fall because the other option is staying here, below… always looking up at a challenge, a choice, a door. And never to open it? That just isn’t me. Curiosity is the bane of my existence, and my joy.
Decisions, decisions… I’m practiced in procrastination, too.
I have been infected with regularity and terrified of going on as I began. I feel I am resting at the bottom of a mountain, having walked a long, long way. The depth and breadth of what came before stops me in my tracks. And as I look up I know what’s at the top.
At least I think I know. The key to understanding rests on faith alone, and it’s a delicate balancing act. Are her shoulders really so broad?
A nun told me it’s resting a stick against a wall. Easier said than done, and often enough my hands shake. There is an art to not being bothered by that imbalance. It is life, this standing on one leg, holding to the earth with one toe.
And if I fall, I fall because the other option is staying here, below… always looking up at a challenge, a choice, a door. And never to open it? That just isn’t me. Curiosity is the bane of my existence, and my joy.
Decisions, decisions… I’m practiced in procrastination, too.