She walked through the field, her hands lightly brushing over the tall heads of feathery grass. The sun was warm on her shoulders, the breeze gentle and made of sunlight in motion. Her head echoed of fear, her heart raced with worry. The ground beneath her was uncertain, frail, and cracked. It held her weight and met each footfall with the strength of ancestors. But still she was caught in the space between faith and disbelief. Of course everything was going to be fine. What was she thinking, this will never work.

One foot in front of the other. Slow and steady. Don’t grab on to the grass heads, even for balance. Let them tickle your palms as you continue on your path. Keep walking. Don’t grab on. Keep walking. Don’t grab on. Repeating these instructions gave her reassurance enough. She could move mountains or molehills. She could let life wash over her in a tidal wave of fear. She could walk through her field of desires, intentions, big ideas and heartbreaks. If there was movement she wouldn’t get stuck. 

In the hammock of hesitation there was magical momentum that allowed her to choose: faith ignited the lamp light that lit her path, and fear left her padding in the darkness looking for the door, only to find the corners. 

Her path meandered and wandered. Turning back on itself a few times. Sometimes a straight line and sometimes an arc. In the end she would look back at the crop circles of her trodden field and see the pattern. Faith led her without hesitation. Fear took her sideways and through a tangle of circle backs. She would discover that a balance of the two led her through her thoughts and over the belly of her dreams so she could tumble and roll into the palm of her story. A well told novel of dog-ears, frayed edges, tear stains, and echoes of laughter that smelled like warm tall grass on a summer evening. A joyous story that drew her in. She never wanted to put it down, she thought, as she gazed at the beautiful cover as the book lay on the table before her. Sunlight streaked in through the window in the last afternoon light.