The act of planting a small seed in soil you aren't sure is fertile enough--but hope, desperately hope--that it is. And the seed, a small husk holding only a new possibility, that fragile little flicker of promise--of what, you might not even know. Yet you still dare to image another way of being.
Bravery, vulnerability's bold lover. Not in donning armor but consciously, when the moment is right, casting off that thick chainmail and exposing the tender skin underneath to wonder, to the simple chance that there is life beyond the mundane. It is in that tentative first step into a new way of living. Pushing past the fear, the little whispers that try to keep you tethered to the safety of the un-evolving.
It's in taking the risk to believe that you are on your path even as you wonder if it is a path at all (you only see a faint ribbon of dirt half-buried in bramble). No matter. You will make it one. You have made it one. Your feet moving forward--first one, then the other--do so in response to the prompting of the loose earth beneath your feet--it calls to your soles--soul--as your soul calls to it. And that is enough.
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