Starting this Friday, June 17th, I am walking another hundred miles for the hundreds of amputees in developing countries needing a prosthetic leg. I'll walk a mile a day for 100 days to raise money for the Prosthetic Outreach Foundation's programs around the world. Even though the fit of my prosthetic leg has been painful lately, even though I have to admit to some fear about making this commitment again, I keep in mind the lesson I've been learning for the past year and a half. Fear does not own me. Fear to me is like being a mole, sightlessly digging around under the mantel of the earth, searching for a way out, clumsily trying to find my way out of the depths. Every now and then I'll poke my head out to see the light of day, but habit keeps me digging. Fear to me is really about feeling alone and lonely.
Trust, my opposite of fear, is like being the bald eagle, soaring above the earth, seeing everything from a larger perspective. When I shift to this viewpoint, I see how interconnected everything is. I find such comfort in that. When I trust, I feel part of something bigger.
I will trust that I can keep the eagle's perspective as I walk my daily walk. I will trust that my walking a hundred miles is bigger than just me walking a hundred miles. And I will trust that, even if I never see it or know it, a connection between myself and another amputee will be made. I will trust.