A Leap of Faith

Nothing to fear but fear itself.

Standing atop the rock cliff. The fibres of the rope creasing my fingers. I hadn’t realized I was holding it so tightly.

My friends below egg me on, but I can’t seem to let my feet leave the ground. It has stabilized me through life.

A deep breath. A firm grip. A faith that I was born to fly.

The rope dips under my weight and swings in a low arc. At the end of the bow, I release my grip. A lifetime passes before I hit the water. The coolness is welcome and I surface, victorious.

There was nothing pretty about it. I skinned the top of my foot, I flailed through the air, and I hit the water harder than I would have liked.

My first big move came at the age of 18 when I left home to university. The decision was anxiety ridden.

The unknown is terrifying, and comfort keeps us safe.

At that time, my 18 year old self made a bigger decision than University. He made the decision to jump. To trust his gut. To push comfort aside and experience emotions that exist beyond pleasure. This was the most important decision he’s ever make.

It may not have looked pretty, but something wonderful happened — he survived. Every time he had to jump, it became easier, more graceful.

He experienced things that had seemed far beyond the realm of his life. He loved and lost. He travelled to far off lands, and ate meats unknown. He saw parallel universes, and awoke parts of himself that had lay dormant since birth.

He certainly scraped his foot here and there. He may have even broken a few bones. But the rewards have been plenty.

Keep jumping.