Last Labor Day we went up to our friends’ cottage about 2 hours north of Toronto. When we arrived we put their boat in the water and took a quick lap around the lake to see the sites. We stopped at a popular cliff jumping spot. There were multiple levels where you could jump ranging from 10 feet up to about 60 feet or so. Nobody was there.
Cliff jumping isn’t so frightening when you’re sitting inside a boat. It’s easy to raise your arm with pointer extended and proclaim, “Tomorrow, I will do that.”
Tomorrow came and we returned to the spot. There were several other boats hanging out with about 10 people scattered atop the cliff at different heights. Not one of them was old enough to drive. I decided I was going to jump from the third level which was about 40 feet up. How hard could it be if little girls are doing it?
My wife joined me. She decided to jump from one level lower. It was still pretty high. I made her go first to make sure it was safe. While I was toeing the edge I noticed a boy at the top level flanked by enormous pines. He may as well been at the summit of Mt. Everest. It seemed like he was falling forever before he broke the water. He was so slender I thought he might break first.
I stood at my edge a lot longer than I had rehearsed in my mind the day before. Several attempts at throwing myself off that landing were made unsuccessfully. All I needed to do was take one step and gravity would do the rest.
I eventually summoned the courage to step.
My knees were slightly bent when I entered the water. Instead of piercing like a pencil I crumpled like I was sitting in a chair. That’s a self-proven method for bruising your tailbone.
When I was still up on that edge I performed that dance where you get close and lean over, look down and then back off and repeat. That went on for minutes. I tried to remind myself of how easy it looked from the boat. I looked at all the children seemingly soaring without trepidation. Neither helped much. There was a difference when I was actually in that place. It looked different. It felt different.
After I climbed back into the boat my 40 foot fanny cracker transformed into a badge of honor. My wife, children and friends were there to witness it. It felt good.
So what edge are you dancing with from a distance? I think you should get up there before you talk yourself out of it. Bring witnesses. It makes it harder to back away.
A bruised butt is better than a bruised heart.
Photo credit.
