Risky Business

There I was. Palms sweating. Heart racing. Why had I agreed to do this again? Oh, right. My friends talked me into it. “It'll be fun!” they said. “Don't be scared!” they said. They even gave me a little verbal push by telling me, “It's really not that bad, no big deal!” Right.

There I stood, on the top of what amounted to a single telephone pole, deciding whether or not I would jump to what I assumed would be an early death. “Fifteen is too young to die,” is all that was running through my head. Well, that and the thought that if I lived I might seriously injure my friends that had talked me into this in the first place.

It was my first experience with what is known as a high-ropes course. You know, the kind of place where you climb rock walls and walk across cables and do things that would ordinarily never be possible because of safety issues, all because you're strapped into a harness. The idea being if you start to fall to your death, the person on the ground holding on to you can stop your fall.

That wasn't a very comforting thought to me though. Standing 60 feet in the air on a pole that barely held my little size 6 feet I was terrified.

Could I actually do this? Jump and trust that this harness that was strapped onto me by some college student would actually hold?

In an instant, something clicked in my head. I don't know what triggered it. Suddenly it occurred to me that if I didn't jump I'd probably regret it. And on top of the regret, I'd have to climb back down this giant death pole (the climb up not being the highlight of my life).

So I started to try to convince myself I could do this. I had friends on the ground cheering for me. Yelling encouraging words. Telling me I wouldn't die.

In the next instant my mind took it's own leap. Instead of just stepping off this pole, experiencing a free fall until I could put my feet on solid ground, why not make the most of it. Why not jump as far and hard as I could? Why not try to jump out to the little trapeze type pole that they challenged people to reach? Why not just go all out?

Then it happened. I jumped. I mean, I really jumped. It was the most terrifying thing I had ever experienced. I'm sure my blood curdling scream could be hear a state away. But it was also one of the most liberating and exhilarating experiences of my 15 year old life.

I had conquered a fear.

The rest of the time at the ropes course was a series of liberating moments, chances to continually overcome my fear of heights, opportunities to be the one that led the way.

At that point I didn't realize how much that situation would happen over and over again in my life. No, not overcoming the fear of heights, but the fear to jump. The fear to let go and trust.

The fear that I felt that day rears it's ugly head nearly every day, in situations in which I wouldn't expect it to be present.

And every single day I have a choice. Will I jump? Will I take the risk of failing, or falling, or dying in some aspect of my life? Will I listen to the people who are encouraging me, helping me along, or will I give in to the nagging voice in my head that tells me it isn't worth it?