Tess, my oldest daughter and I went for a little R & R to Westport. A seedy little cottage on the jetty was perfect. Otters playing and feeding, seals and sea lions entertained us. Reclining with a blanket, bundled up out under the starts on the porch not asking for anything - being together, enjoying each other was enough.
We took a long walk to the lighthouse along the beach path, stopping along the way to pick up heart rocks and beach glass. The walk was going to be long, I was loaded down from the beginning, so I scrounged a plastic bag from the ditch and put all the rocks and treasures from my bulging pockets in the bag behind a big pile of rocks to get later.
The next morning before we left town, I parked as close as possible to go retrieve my bag of treasures down the path where I had stored them. Two choices presented themselves. Follow the path which was twice as long or cut across this field laced with stickery low lying blackberry brambles and save time. I decided to risk the brambles. It looked uncrossable without tearing up my pants and shoes. Then a thought. Just take a step, one step. So I did. Every 'next' step I took opened up a 'next' step which I couldn't see until I took the one before. I had to move, take an action step.
I quickly made it to the other side, grabbed my stash and because of the first success, went back to the edge of that bramble field and had the exact same impossible feeling that I couldn't possibly accomplish it; even though I had just come across it without mishap a few minutes ago. Isn't that a strange thing? It seemed daunting, impossible, undoable. Again?
Remembering that I just had to take a first step and the next would be made clear and open up before me helped me move into the bramble patch one more time. This time it seemed like dancing effortlessly through a grid, smiling. God smiled too! :)