There's a path along Monocacy Creek in my hometown of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania which leads through an overgrown forest and ends in a clearing where a hundred-foot rock outcropping rises from the earth. Several times during high school, my friends and I climbed that vertical rock for sheer sport. By the time we dragged our sorry selves to the top, we'd be drenched in sweat and covered in mud and more often than not be bleeding from getting snagged on sharp roots and jagged stone. We never considered climbing down the cliff, too risky we said at the time.
In 2011, I quit my job at a financial services company to write every day. I felt (and still feel most days) as if I jumped from a steep cliff into an abyss. I recently discovered the quote by Ray Bradbury, never fully appreciating the risk I took to fuel my soul. Funny thing, instead of falling to my death as I feared, the darkness I imagined cleared and I entered my life. Though the sky is bright most days, the thickness of the clouds makes it impossible to see exactly where I’m going, but the fear is (almost) gone.