What If Trust Matters More Than Certainty?

A couple months ago, I was walking my dog, lost in thought.

For some reason, a question came to me: Do blind people ever go for walks just for pleasure? Not to get somewhere. Not because they have to. Just to enjoy the movement, the air, the day. I wondered—how would that even work?

And then, just as I was nearing a bend in the path, I saw him. A man, walking slowly, steadily, tapping the ground with his stick. He was blind. Just walking. Alone. Peacefully.

My heart skipped. It was as if life whispered, Here’s your answer.

Since then, I’ve seen him several times. But yesterday, I watched something that stayed with me. He came to a road—a busy two-way street. There was no light. No crossing button.

He stopped. Waited just a few seconds. Then, with quiet certainty, he lifted his stick and stepped forward.

He didn’t know if a car was coming.

He didn’t wait for perfect conditions.

He simply trusted—and crossed.

And I couldn’t help but think: how often do we, fully sighted, fully capable, stay stuck at life’s crossings?

Hesitating. Weighing. Overthinking.

Afraid of what might go wrong.

Afraid to make the “wrong” decision.

But maybe the point isn’t certainty.

Maybe it’s trust.

In life. In others. In ourselves.

Maybe courage doesn’t mean knowing—it means stepping forward anyway.