The ice blade cuts across the ice and also cuts through the unknown night. Falling down, standing up, and starting again is not to be crowned by the cheers of the crowd, but to catch the self that never gives up flying. All falls and struggles will become the gentlest prelude to the eve of glory.
Intention: The real coronation is never the moment when everyone is watching, but the long eve of confronting vulnerability alone and silently living oneself as light in the middle of the night when no one sees it.
