the land of beginning again

We can forsake the song of justification

Beginnings have a mythology all their own, don’t they?
The rush and flush of excitement carry us forward.
Past the impossible, with its monsters and worries.
We may not even care if we tumble in the humble pursuit of figuring it all out.
We can do beginnings.
But it is when we have to enter the land of beginning again, that the fear often finds us.
And we doubt whatever it was that set us forth in the first place.

It’s the moments when we have sputtered to a stop.
As sureness unravels.
Forming a pool of possibility at our feet.
It’s when we have to reemerge from the deep.
When the worlds of newness are forming with each step taken.
It is then that we wait.
Unsure of how to breakthrough the surface.
Wanting to get it right.
Knowing something will shatter, no matter what.
At times we will reach a hand out.
Make a mark.
Hide again, waiting for a sign that may never come.
Or we try to find the words for an explanation.
To illuminate a future that cannot yet exist without our participation.
Because the answers simply just aren’t there.
And their safety can’t be offered.
Beginning again requires stepping bare into the day.
With what matters only partially formed.
It is an act of creation.
Of re-creation.
Of daring.
It is where we risk the imagined whispers coming true.
The ones that spin hopeless tales of endless falls.

Beginning again is hard.
And yet, if we are lucky.
We will get to do it over and over.
As the waves of evolution show us paths to more of who we are.

So perhaps we can forsake the songs of justification.
We can let the fear dance on the edges of our heart.
And we just let ourselves begin.
Again.
And again.
And again.