Along the creek’s edge,

water swiftly flowing,

slippery mud warns of the potential danger in crossing.

Yet here I am, knowing this is the way to go.

I watch as the current jets and swerves around the moss and algae covered rocks scattered in the creek.

I find the most narrow crossing and yet it seems like still an impassible ravine.

My body tightens with anxiety,

For a moment I choose fear in response to this opportunity to move in a new direction.

In the tightening, frozen, I am,

dreading staying where I am equally to where I know I must go.

Then the anxiety speaks more loudly.

My breath grabs at my chest.

Sweat speckles my skin.

I must make the crossing.

That is my destiny.

I step out onto one rock and

with breath unconvinced of my safety the path begins to unfold.

I pause.

Instead of dashing quickly across the precariously and wide spread rocks,

I reach out to the rock before me and test its steadiness.

In the past I might not have made a connection – I might have tried to move urgently, wobbly and unsure, holding my breath and perhaps even crashing in the cold rushing water…blaming the rocks.

Today, my anxiety informs me of my power to pause,

to narrow my attention, my body, and my focus.

I don’t need to take the path as it is.

I tense not with fear but with agency as I move my muscles into action.

I reach down and shift the unsteady rock before me.

It’s heavy and at first won’t move.

So I narrow and tighten more until I funnel the tightness into strength.

The rock moves…and so do the others beyond it…and so do I.

The rocks settle.

I settle.

My chest releases.

My breath deepens.

My body advances forward,

grounded and a bit more sure.

There are a few more stones to go but I now know I don’t need to take them as they are.

I can make the path my own as I find my way.