I watched a documentary about the effects of increasing temperatures in Alaska, and it was obvious that a great number of animals were having difficulties making the adjustment. Snow was melting sooner, for example, which led to a decreased population of wolves, because they used their large paws—like snow shoes—to catch larger prey that struggled as they ran in deep snow. Without the snow, the wolves were slower than the elk and other foragers they preyed upon.
Great gray owls lost more of their chicks, for reasons I never would have guessed. I watched three chicks reach the point where it was time for them to leave the nest, which was perched in the top of the trunk of a conifer that had snapped off at about thirty feet above the ground. The two larger chicks leapt off the edge of the trunk and landed safely on the ground. The last chick teetered back and forth, uncertain of what he wanted. Years before, this would not have been a problem, but in the increased heat, he was dehydrating and overheating with every minute he waited to take the leap. Finally, he jumped.
Many of us rock back and forth on the edge of taking the leap required to trust somebody to love us. Some of us leap to real safety, while others live with the illusion of safety, refusing to jump and remaining alone and unhappy.
Just take the leap.