Battlefields

Even as an ardent Star Trek fan, I never followed the immortal words “to go where no man has gone before.” When faced with danger, adversity, or the vast unknown, I am more prone to scream, “Beam me up, Scotty.” Beam me up NOW.

Do some of us have damaged DNA chains? Are we missing key brain functions that indicate it’s natural to hurtle down mountains on waxed skis or throw your body in a bobsled and rush over 90mph to the finish line? I represent an entire segment of the population that has never sported an athletic injury. Just last week, I demonstrated my prowess in a restaurant stumbling over an uneven floor. My pride and I smashed on concrete. I’m still pampering the twisted knee and ankle and putting heating pads on shin bruises. Hand over the pain killers and call it a day.

Even if it’s not challenging physical confrontation, I rarely stop long enough to ponder flee or fight. Fleeing is my natural instinct and I’m too busy running away from that which I cannot see to determine how to face it. Is there skill to reaching deep in the soul to find the strength to move forward? To face the future. To be all we can be. And how do you find your future when you’re trying to find yourself? How do you chase dreams when you’re still chasing demons? But such is my destiny – my challenge. To stop running and stare down the universe. To put a face on its complexities. To contain fear and push aside pride and walk with humility. My victories will not be on skating rinks or at the bottom of mountains. My victories will be found in quests to find my path and kindred spirits. To live in love. To search among the clutter and pick up hope and leave its legacy for the next traveler.

Fighting the unknown; facing an uncertain future – these are my battlefields. I will stop running and look in the mirror for strength, look above for guidance, and look to others for support. And then, at some point, I will have to take action. I will have to move if only to clumsily put one foot in front of the other and simply walk. When the transporter is broken and Mr. Scott says in his thick brogue, “There’s only enough power for one. We only have time for one, Captain.” Maybe then I will have found the strength to reply, “Take Mr. Spock.”