Taking That First Step...

"You may wonder, 'How can I leave it all behind if I am just coming back to it? How can I make a new beginning if I simply return to the old?' The answer lies in the return. You will not come back to the 'same old thing.' What you return to has changed because you have changed. Your perceptions will be altered. You will not incorporate into the same body, status, or world you left behind. The river has been flowing while you were gone. Now it does not look like the same river" (Steven Foster)

I have this dream...

I am not sure if the word "dream" would do justice to describe the intensity of this desire of mine. Afterall, it's been burning within me since I was 14...

And it looks like that dream is now not too far away from my reach. Yet, I am fully aware that it's but a stepping stone...towards a world of experiences waiting out there for me.

I feel like a child about to take my first step. But unlike a child who probably does not have the ability to stop and think about the next fall that's in store, this state of being aware (that I find to be a curse of being an adult) that I am in makes me wonder about my upcoming share of falls. Afterall, can any journey be complete without its fair share of "bruises and bumps". But I do know that with each fall, or at the onset of one...I would look up to find the hand of "the man above" reaching out to lift me up.

When I first learned to cycle, I was 19. Before my first lesson, I reminded myself that there was absolutely no way I could eventually cycle with ease untill I have had my fair share of falls. And fall I did. Again and again...till one day, it seemed possible to cycle for 3 seconds without falling off it. The 3 seconds stretched to 6, 10, and eventually, one day, I fell no more.

As I am about to venture out into the world all by myself, I am reminded once again of my cycling lessons. Only this time, I know I cannot stop with each fall. I must reach for the "hand" believing it will always be there for me...raise myself up...and continue. I can't hope to "call it a day", push the cycle back home to engage myself with less bumpier activities, consoling myself that I can choose not to go for a ride the next day.

This time round, the "ride" must go on...until I reach "the" destination - the way to which I know not of, the path of which is not for me to dictate...