Beginning is possible, because there’s something there to begin with: one’s own yearning, one’s desire. To do what is close to one’s heart enables action without goals, measurable results or strategies. The road that one takes is followed step by step. Every step has its own value, and is not just a means to an end.
One way of beginning is to playfully try something out and take the risk of encountering the ambiguous and unpredictable, just like playing a game of cards where all cards are faced down and are only printed as they are turned. This leaves space for thoughts I am not even able to think yet; for „unrealistic” things that might not otherwise make it through the spinning top of „it’s always been done this way” and fixed ideas of how the world works. One simply begins. With a little courage.
Humans are beginners from birth and therefore have a talent for beginning. Little kids learn to walk by doing it, driven by delight, curiosity, wonder, and trust. Falling down and getting up again are just part of the deal. This makes beginning possible. But it’s helpful and even necessary in this process to entrust oneself to someone, someone to motivate, to warn, and console—someone with authority.
Beginning means adding a new thread to the fabric that sustains and nourishes: woven by parents and ancestors, by community and every living being on Earth, one’s own individual and unique matrix. This can happen on any given day. Beginnings can begin anew any and every day.
Sharon Welch: A Feminist Ethic of Risk, Minneapolis 1999