# Risks in Plain Sight

## The Simple Ledger

Life hands us risks like unmarked pages—raw, unadorned, waiting for our hand. On this winter solstice, 2025, as daylight dips lowest, I think of "risks.md" as that quiet notebook. No flashy covers or hidden codes, just honest lines: a job change, a heartfelt confession, a step into the unknown. We list them plainly, not to dwell in fear, but to see them clearly. In their starkness lies power—no illusions, just truth.

## Facing the Unformatted

What if we treated every gamble like editable text? A wrong turn isn't carved in stone; it's a draft we revise. Yesterday, I walked a foggy path home, heart pounding from an untested bridge over a stream. The risk felt huge—slippery stones, rushing water. Yet crossing built quiet confidence, a small victory rendered from hesitation. Risks aren't enemies; they're the spaces between words, inviting us to fill them with care.

## A Gentle Render

Over time, these notes compile into something whole. We learn patterns: some leaps soar, others teach us ground. No need for grand theories—just steady steps.

- Notice the small ones first: a new recipe, a candid talk.
- Revise without shame: what served once may not tomorrow.
- Share sparingly: your ledger guides you, not the crowd.

In this practice, uncertainty softens into path.

*On the longest night, every risk whispers of coming dawn.*