It’s the fear of uncertainties—- fear of the unknown. It’s not really the fear of death, or the end of what we know, it’s really the not knowing. What if we actually do survive? And then what?
Will we be crippled for the rest of our lives? Will our deficiencies ever go away? And if so, then what?
Haven’t we figured out yet that by worrying we can’t do anything, that we remain stale and completely useless, even to ourselves? Haven’t we learned yet that the journey is important and it’s really the “deal?”
All I can say, and all you can fathom, is that here and now lies life—- right before our eyes. Will we remain as we are or will we be moved, or better yet, will we move ourselves?
I mean, what if no one really knew what was at the end of the tunnel, and what if all of our ideals meant nothing in the end (God forbid if that would ever happen, right?)? But what if?
I guess we’d have to just wait and see. But better yet, let’s move ourselves. Let’s live a dream, the thing that they say would be impossible and improbable to achieve. Let’s achieve it, and then dream again.
Let’s just enjoy the journey, enjoy the ride.
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