Step #22: Accept All Challenges

I have jumped off cliffs a few times in my life. It's terrifying. I've hyper-ventilated, gotten atomic wedgies, knocked the wind out of myself and procured bruises that covered the entirety of the back of my legs. I'm extremely athletic.

No. I really am....

The experiences have been varied with their success rate and danger level. The first time I had done it was off what looked like an asteroid in Hawaii. I began the climb, excited...bounding, skipping almost, over every crevasse. It did not take a lot of convincing. I was excited and open to the challenge. As I got closer to sky than ground, fear made itself known. Pulse racing, my heart knocked against my rib cage, sounding the alarm. "Are you SURE you want to do this? THINK of what could happen..." But, I didn't care. I was drunk off the exhilaration, the promise of flight no matter how brief it might be. I crouched low and surveyed the distance. Young children flung themselves to the waters below with reckless abandon---blind faith. Their willingness to let go, an inspiration to me. I stood up....closed my eyes and jumped.

I do not have the words to describe....






....the force with which my bikini bottoms were launched directly up my ass. It was jarring and hilarious and not comfortable. I didn't let that stop me though. I giggled and swam back out...running to the top again and again. Complete Surrender. The fear of getting hurt did not hinder me. I was free.




Years later, I found myself in a similar situation. Standing on a cliff next to a waterfall tucked back into the depths of an abandoned sugar cane field. As we made it down the quarter mile dirt path to the clearing, I watched in amazement (that soon turned to intimidation) as locals took swan dives off of tree branches and swung like acrobats into the water below. The closer we got, the more terrified I became.

I was not to be out done.

The drop? Seemingly manageable.

The aftermath? Seemingly ecstatic.

I watched for a long time. Gauging the agility, athleticism, and fear factor of those around me. Still, it did not feel right. But I swallowed my fear, stepped to the ledge and jumped.

What would follow, I will not soon forget. Three quarters of the way to the water, I panicked. I went into survival mode and tried to curl up in a ball. I did not make it. I slapped the water a la my favorite Moonstruck slap. Wind knocked out, I surfaced gasping for air. I was NOT okay. I swam to the ladder fashioned by Tarzan out of rope and vine and vowed, "No, Never again." In the days that followed, bruises that stretched the length of my thighs evolved. Every day, a different kind of pain.

If you haven't fallen asleep yet, I'm getting to my point...

These jumps have become a bit of a metaphor for love in my life. They required surrender, a leap of faith. Sometimes you can walk away laughing. And sometimes you walk away with a painful reminder of what you won't do again.

Not every challenge thrown at you can be navigated with the grace and ease that you'd like it to be. Lessons hurt, bruise and scar. But without these challenges, you don't grow. You don't learn. You can't evolve. Learning to soldier through pain is one of the most difficult lessons I have had to endure. My only hope is that once the challenge is surmounted, I am stronger and appreciative of the experience.