I stand on the brink of an idea and lean forward to see how deep it goes. Sometimes I pack a parachute, knees-shaking, and jump, only to meet the ground just two or three feet below. Other times I stumble to the edge, trip on a rock, and fall and fall into a never-ending black bottom. Most of the problem is my being short-sighted. I can’t see that deep. I can only see the beginning. If I get halfway through packing the parachute and start to doubt the depth, I might walk away from a good canyon; I know I’ve done this before, and left canyons unwritten. Just the same as I’ve jumped without a ‘chute and fallen for a while in senselessness, until the crash landing inevitably ruins the piece. As I lose my sight of physical depth, I gain a feeling like my sore knee before rainfall, that tells me when to pack the parachute.