The first step, my son, which one makes in the world,
is the one on which depends the rest of our days.
This photograph, like many I have posted lately, was taken in North Carolina on a friend’s property outside of Brevard. The rustic stones are not remarkable in and of themselves, but the thoughts they evoked for me made me snap this photograph as I was wandering the gardens with my macro lens taking pictures of the needles of a short-leaf pine, or the bloom of a bergamot bee balm. I have taken millions of steps in my life, some far more important than others. The first step is always the most important, as one cannot fully embrace the others on the journey without a solid beginning. In recovery, the first step is acceptance, and in grief, mourning; without recognizing the importance of the first step, the others will be shaky at best, and at worst wholly ineffectual. This is by no means my most beautifully composed shot, nor the most interesting one I have taken, but it is evocative of a life’s journey. This allusion is what made me pause and even consider the steps, which I had passed hundreds of times before on my way up to the cabin. As Voltaire noted, the first step we take on any journey is the one which will determine the rest of our days. I have taken many a first step, some multiple times after failing on the journey, but whether acceptance or mourning, the first step is the foundation upon which everything else can be built.
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