When you walk to the edge of all the light you have and take that first step into the darkness of the unknown, you must believe that one of two things will happen. There will be something solid for you to stand upon or you will be taught to fly.
Feet stumbling under the weight of gear and fatigue, I follow a cricket down the talus field. I marvel at how the hopper leaps over rock and misshapen granite, trusting that he will land safely. In successive leaps over thirty times his body length, he cannot possibly see where his jump will deliver him. Although from time to time the creature’s leap ends prematurely against rock, he most often lands safely and surely.
I want to be this cricket-person: who takes blind leaps of faith as naturally as breathing and trusts his body in nature so absolutely; who chooses a direction but doesn’t know where he’ll end up, utterly aware of the moment because the future is unknown.
Note: Opening quote by Patrick Overton, Faith
Image: Grand Teton National Park by Jill Yotz, 2015
Paradise trail in Mount Rainier National Park, with Mount Saint Helens in the distance, by Jill Yotz, 2014