I listen to a Bach partita in D minor and believe in Bach's God. I watch a raven hop about and I believe in the Tlingit creation story. I ski through a stand of trees and believe like the vikings that men and women were formed from two trees sprouted from the flesh of a dead giant. I look through Anton van Leeuwenhoek's eyes at microscopic life forms and believe in science. I feel the cold wind burning my face and I believe in the force of nature. I see a snap-spined vole flung from Gnomi's mouth and my father's gray skinned body in his coffin and I believe in death. I feel my heart beat and breathe in and I believe in life. I listen to the news on the radio and I believe in fear. I listen to Martin Luther King Jr and I believe in people. I remember the stories my father told (he was a minister of Bach's God) and I believe in trolls. Everything tells me to believe.