of uncertainty and surety. Of gains and loss. Of love and sadness.

Lying here, I’m contemplating the extraordinary silence of space and a vacuum, wishing I could experience it just once.  I hear my cat. I hear an airplane off in the distance. I hear the fan filter I set up to collect the dust particles floating in the air.  My dog is snoring.

If none of these were present, I would still hear the high frequencies of my nervous system, the hissing of blood in my veins, and beating of my own heart.

I guess that’s how I know I am alive.

I hear my thoughts.

I feel the tightness in my chest that comes with thinking too much. The fear. I shut it out.

There is nothing to fear.

Not being alone. Not people. Not change. Not rejection. Not falling. Not death. Not failing.

As I rise up in the shape and form I have in my mind become, look out over waters and imagine myself walking across them.

I need to get to the other side, but I don’t know how deep, how cold, how swift the current.

There are stepping stones leading away from shore. I don’t know how far they go but they are the only way forward.

So I take them one at a time, not thinking about falling in, only about going as far as possible.

My focus narrows. It’s tempting to direct it downward or behind, but I would lose my balance,  my rhythm, my feel for the stones and my sight of the horizon.

The turbulent, shadowy unknown is all around, taking what energy it can.

I ignore it. I must conserve, so I give nothing back.

Instead I focus on my vision, my goals, my presence. In my in mind and heart, I embrace the reality.

The path is one-way.

The stones are courage.