Doubt, fear, narratives and reputation - (shared draft)

Doubt and Fear. 
I write you from my tent pitched only yards from where we will depart in the morning for our most absurd and yet appropriate adventure  — and as the hour draws near and the seeds of impending doom, my doubts and my fears, now fight to take root, looking to secure in my mind, a looming narrative and therefor governance of my thoughts I will myself to look forward, to find in my self the stead fast, the firm stance required, to represent myself, who i was and who I have become. And in this battle at times I feel lost. And at this juncture at times I feel overwhelmed and ill prepared and yet I feel capable, to rise to an occasion once again, to bring forth to the fight my best effort, to lean into the task, to marshal my strength and find serenity in the knowledge, I have been here before, and I will be here again, which, in its self, is both assuring and destructive, for while I have shown the will to endure in campaigns of the past, the war fought with in the terrain of my mind, this battle of conviction and doubt, much like the excursion which draws nearer with every moment spent  pondering, gains strength in its prowess the more I consider, and yet will fall short on the shore. Much as a hurricane is endured and then passes, and the knowledge that time swallows all, and this too shall pass, being all that we need to hold dear. This doubt looks to derail us, to unwind and dismember the quilt of our most feverish defences, without need for elegance or grace, irrelevant of best intention or even the bliss of ignorance, it tramples and works with unrelenting stampede to collapse any and all fortification we push forward to impede its path, to lesson the torrent and divert consequence. And it is here I find my relevance, and draw from my source. I wrestle with my confusion, assaulted by past experience, as the world leaves me in its wake. 
And yet, i walk on and do so content. 
We came for a reason
At least that’s what we tell ourselves, as meaning makers. And sometimes we arrive with no agenda, as if drawn in by a feeling of simply needing to be there, and at others times we show up knowing the general ghist, the trending towards theme, in consideration of the task at hand. Either way and anyway, we arrive, and there is what happened and then, appreciating just how obvious this is, and yet, a crucial detail to hold on too, there’s what happens next. And while we must consider the past, as predictors of the future, at the end of days, its what you do next, how you carry yourself once the distilled lessons learned settle. What actions did you then take, to erare is human, and ultimately our saviour from being too fragile. 
I landed on the island of Orcas with this in mind, what happened before, with its looming, and ever changing narrative, to see up close what happened next, a cast member in a version of the story still to be told. The stage is set as a swimrun excursion, an adventure of sorts, the cast of characters includes an icon of sport, as a beacon of humans endurance capacity, our will to sustain, and the question of morality, what price are we willing to pay. There are no shortage of opinions as to how people feel, their judgement and measure of another man. I do my best to stay clear of assumption and its cousin speculation, and yet, at one point in our lives, when our peak physical capacity coincided, and if the circumstances required, and our attributes were those best suited; if you needed to send someone to get the medicine, over the hills and far away, you would have considered sending one of us, by an objective measure, with all narratives, and excuses set to the side. Each in our own way, we did whatever it takes, and in doing so laid ourselves bare. And if you read this as an admission, I have nothing to hide, if you have questions, please ask them out loud, and with this knowledge I never need wonder, how I would have done if i had not made up my own rules. But to each their own, we all face the struggle, I have my own flaws, they poke and prod me every new day to which I do wake. And in this I find solace, as it is said, the cracks they let the light in.