Thursday, February 5, 2015
Ready to Fly
I strapped myself in, held on tight, and let myself fly. It was freeing, more freeing than anything I had felt in a long time. Up in the air, through the trees, platform to platform. Ziplining had never been a thing to enter my mind as something I might like to try. I tend to get serious in my life. I tend to forget to laugh and play. This was the first time in a long while that I had felt the exhilaration of just letting go.
My sister and I had created lists. I made hers. She made mine. “Twenty Things to Try Before This Time Next Year.” Had I made my own list, it might have looked something like this—paint the kitchen, weed the backyard, replace the toilet, return all those books. Let’s just say my comfort zone was begging ME to leave.
And so I painted, but not my kitchen. I sat with a friend and created some art. I spent a day in complete silence, sent a message in a bottle. I rode a trolley in San Francisco, walked beagles and poodles and mutts who had no home. I packed myself into a car with a good friend and headed to St. Louis. I enjoyed a weekend of great conversation, a visit to the museum, arboretum, and the arch, my first massage. Some might say that I failed to finish the list. I would say, “Oh, but look what I tried.”
And, so, we’ve decided to do this again. I have lately found myself in a bit of a rut. I am desperately in need of a breath of fresh air. We had a brief chat, my sister and I, earlier on the phone. We laid out our plan, talked about rules. Come Sunday night we will each receive our first month’s list. Of three items provided we choose only one. Each month following, we receive a new list. It is required that we journal, take photos, post a status or two. Provide some proof that we are breaking free, that we are exploring, learning, remembering to laugh.
So, here I go, strapping myself in, holding on tight. Stand back now. I’m ready to fly.