I'm quite a tall person and so I face two main dangers when I walk: if I don't look down, I can't see anything within stepping distance that is under four feet -- children often sneak into this blind spot, which has led to some accidents that I just feel awful about (I will call our apology line right after this) and if I don't look up, I bump my head on doorways, trees, and flying birds. So, I've learned to walk in a way that causes me to look as though I'm in absolute agreement with somebody -- look up, look down, look up, look down. It's not cool, but neither are helmets or seat belts, and I wear both of those when the situation calls for it.
As I was walking and agreeing yesterday, I noticed (on a particularly high "look up") the wafer-like, daytime moon. I thought, "I could walk with some style on the moon -- there'd be nothing in my way." Then, later, looking at the moon online, I saw that the anniversary of the first moonwalk is July 20. Also, the sad anniversary of Michael Jackson's death just passed by us. Moonwalks everywhere!
I wondered more about moonwalking. Have I ever taken a giant step into the unknown? Have I ever moved beautifully, as though I were floating? Write about a giant step you took. Then we'll assemble all the steps into a virtual "stair case."
My giant step is the step I took to leave law school in order to pursue my love of public radio. I certainly had no idea what I was stepping into. And, it can be difficult to think that right now I could have a secure job with a secure income as a lawyer. But, most of the time, when I am producing a radio story, I find myself happier than I ever imagined. Enveloped in a story as it unfolds, I am wholly engaged in the activity of bringing it into being. At the same time, it brings me into being.