It’s a silly thing. I know that. Still I worry about it, even now I do. Getting on airplanes, that little space of air, I look up and ahead, because I need my shoes. It’s the same way when I’m getting on elevators. Some of it is, I guess, I’m sure I’d manage to lose only one. Then folks would know, for sure, that I had made the mistake of getting too close to that little space, that space where the shaft of the elevator goes down to my doom.
Sitting on someone’s deck, I have the same problem there. I keep my feet and my shoes well tucked under me.
Yet now . . . something different is happening. I’m working on something exciting, inspiring. It's scary. I’m looking to find a place to stand out on a cliff, because I want to. I’m metaphorically looking to peer off a mountainside, testing all I have to reach for a dream. I’m actually asking myself to stand tall high in the sky. I’m challenging me to admit who I am.
It’s like standing on a precipice, knowing I haven’t quite found my feet.
What am I doing? Isn't this why I don’t like high unenclosed places? I don’t know what I might do if I lose my shoes.
Yet the feeling is lightness, freedom, and joy. Something is telling me when you fly, you don't need shoes.
−me strauss Letting me be