I told a friend yesterday that I enjoy going to the edge of the abyss and looking out, not knowing what’s next. I said that’s how I learned to fly. It’s true. Leaping from that abyss is the way I learned that I could fly. It’s not that there isn’t fear in standing and leaning over the edge, there’s fear enough to go around, but the beauty of what I’ve learned in leaping outweighs the fear. The joy of learning to fly surpasses the terror of falling. The knowing now that I can indeed soar rather than plummet guides me back to that edge over and over.
That is the place of learning, of expression, of living, of being, the edge of what I know and what remains to be seen. When I do leap and see from that new height the picture changes drastically. Sometimes the view from the edge is distorted by the limits of my earth bound vision. What looked like one thing quickly becomes another from the bird’s eye view, seen clearly with eagle eyes. I wouldn’t have known that, had I never leapt.
Fear may still delay my take off from time to time, but I won’t use fear to rob myself of the freedom of flight again.
There’s a song that reminds me of the thrill of that leap. It’s called Mr. Columbus by Grace Potter and the Nocturnals. Check it out sometime and have fun flying!