Hanging

I am a person who always has stories going on in my mind. I am continually thinking about them and editing them in my thoughts.

But there is also a picture that haunts me. It's of me dangling between cliffs. I am hanging from something or someone. I am being held by a line to my heart. At times I'm grabbing onto the line frantically grasping to keep from falling. Other times I lay back as if floating on water and enjoy the feeling of flying.

The year of my 33rd birthday was one of adventure and risk. Not the kind of risk that could endanger your life but the kind that you continually hold out for until someday you have the courage to do it. That year I learned how to drive a stick shift and promptly tore up my husband's transmission (my car was automatic).

But better than that, I went rock climbing and repelling with my husband and a group of our friends. Now, for those who don't know me, I am not in tip-top shape by any stretch of the imagination. But by some miracle I was able to go on a two hour hike up a mountain (with one of the leaders telling me it was just a little bit further every 15 minutes). About halfway up I was feeling weak and longing to give up. That's when I saw a stick that was thick enough to be a walking stick. I picked it up and from that moment I felt stronger. Just like a good friend that stick helped me make it to the place where we stopped before we had to rock climb. Rock climbing was tricky. I'll admit I was scared but there were people in front of me and behind me ready to help at a moment's notice.

Finally we reached the top of the mountain. My husband came to me with that look you get when you're going to share something wonderful for the first time. He took me through some trees to the edge of the mountain and told me to look. I cannot begin to describe the beauty I saw. It was in the fall and there was every color of tree painting the landscape. I stood there breathless.

After my moment of awe, I was given instructions on how to repel and all the cautions that we would take. If you've never been repelling, there is a certain amount of control you have going over the mountain. You hold the rope that is locked into a harness around you. There is someone at the top of the rope and someone at the bottom who can stop the rope if anything goes wrong. But, if all is well, YOU control how fast or slow you descend the mountain.

My husband and I wanted to descend together so we waited our turn. I watched friend after friend disappear over the side of the mountain and became more nervous as I waited. Finally, it was our turn. I found myself backing slowly over the edge. The edge jetted out enough that it seemed there was nothing below it until you let go and glided past that level then you could see the mountain going down. Getting over that ledge had me holding my breath. I got over it slowly and began to go on down at a little faster pace. We stopped for a moment because I needed a break. I was staring at the rock wall in front of me hoping to not freak out until I made it to the bottom. My husband was beside me saying, "Look, Honey, Look!" I quickly glanced towards the place he was pointing to and saw the most beautiful sunset admist the trees all around us. I only allowed myself a moment because my fear took over. Not only did I see the beauty but I saw how far down I could fall.

It was like that picture that I've always had in my head. I understood it more at that moment than ever before. I could have chosen to let go of the fear and fully enjoy the moment. But I held tighter to the rope making blisters on my hands and focused on the fear.

Someday, I hope to draw that picture that I have in my head. I dream that by then I'll be laying back enjoying the feeling of flying not being frozen by the fear.