Navigating the uncertainties of midlife, I’ve begun to consider the time I have left to live, and how I want to live it. I could remain in the comfort of the familiar routines I’ve built, or I could venture into a less comfortable unknown that offers possibility and expansion. The uncertain space between these two choices is a demanding place to be, an uneasy transition that’s universal to the human experience but feels solitary when it’s happening to oneself. Deliberating the pros and cons of either path, I realize that I’m caught in a binary way of thinking, controlled by the dilemma. Yet the ethos of our culture nudges me to decide and act. Looking at my surroundings, I’m drawn to capture scenes that embody these internal states: Encounters between seemingly opposing forces, objects that run parallel but never meet, moments of despair inextricably combined with fleeting illumination. In times of internal balance, I can float, breathe, and endure the tension of opposites. While clarity is something I long for, I’ve come to recognize that the tension of not knowing is not a problem to be solved, but rather, an unexpected source of inspiration and expression. Each day is a new lesson in my tolerance for ambiguity: to not know how things will turn out, and to accept being suspended in the state of becoming.