Up early. With God.
Sorting through how we find clarity when the scope through which we look is cloudy from experiences. A “gut” feeling is not always so straightforward, and the strong independent self seeks to protect the fragility that is very much a part of it. How do we discern between what is fear and what is insight? Trust?
There are the situations of greater magnitude that weaken it, but also those that may not seem as big, but continue to reinforce that it is not safe to trust. Strategy comes into play. If God has given one the skill of mitigating risk, I think, then why not apply it to protect the very part that has been so broken? Don’t trust. Why trust?
Ah, but the lover of life in me knows that is not the way to live.
Optimism and skepticism will need to walk hand in hand.
I find myself on the tightrope walk of discovery, clutching the balance bar of faith, concentrating on the peace that awaits at the other side if I can but stay the course.
Prufrock can enjoy a peach. Can my feet find the next step?
I have stepped out before to find the rope shaky, or my legs, balance uneven, retreat came to late, and I tumbled. My weather worn heart and body already toughened for the fall and a net of resources to soften the blows.
It seems the rope grows higher and longer each time I painstakingly, cautiously, questioningly, hopefully scale the pole to consider the view, the distance and the fall.
Hemingway, will I be separated from the “feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice [because I am] vulnerable;… often wounded, sometimes destroyed”?
Or fight on.
I have chosen leaps that have cast the faint color of hope, even when darkness chased them.
It is okay to invest of oneself and to expect a return when not done charitably, to seek the respect given to the trust extended. And if empty pockets find, then move on.
Perhaps in future forward the darkness will not chase, as it drops from the rope that is cut from the platform of peace.