Two years ago, I stand high in California redwood on the edge of a narrow plank. When I looked down I was surprised why I paid good money to be afraid and wish I was there again. On earth, it is.
Earlier, I saw that my team members climb the same tree one by one and jump. Like i, I walked in a climb and clapped a hard hat. A safety rope cut into the tray hook on the belt closed close my assembly.
As I stand on the base of the big tree, the blood shouted in my ears, so I did not blame for climbing until the hugs on my helmet made me move. I put my right leg on the first wet and smooth hills that were driven into the tree house. I grabbed more spikes above my head and picked me up like the smell of damp moss and bark filled my senses.
Sometimes I stood climbing until I finally cried awkwardly on a small platform that followed the trunk. As I lay down and looked down, the earth appears farther away, but it had the right to be. Although the tree swayed in a soft breeze rustling through her branches, I drew the trembling breath. Terrorism actually makes your mouth drier than the lens. And how could I possibly stand up on Jell-O's knees?
"Now, go to the end of the plane."
Blackbeard had probably used the same words to sacrifice their own victims because of them. Yet I gave the tree a jaw and turned around. Successfully reduced my inch, I emphasized my feet and tried to ignore the earth that seemed to fall further. When I thought I was gone as far as I could, the pure voice called again, "Hold ten."
I turned forward to smidgen, but it must have been pleased with my insult because there was only one instruction.
Now I knew what suicide that stands on the front of a skyscraper must feel like for me there was no window to climb back through. In addition, I came up here to learn something about me. There was only one way out of this tree.
I explained, drew another trembling breath and ran.
My mind yelled "No!" It would clamber at the rear, consider its options, take a vote, anything but that my body was running and gravity had its upper hand.
It was this dangerous second, between something stuck under my feet and thin air, which is most lively for me. I still taste the terrorism, the constraints to stop, panicking "What have I done?" but there was no one to go back. In those moments between the globe and the sky, I discovered that there is an obligation to take even the smallest action. My fear gives her the courage of courage.
I stuck out, felt the rope rigid and yelled with pure joy.
I was flying.
Looking back over my life for the moment, I see how fear was sometimes unchanged. To stretch out the moment in time I finally realize I can find fear but still do it – anyway, & # 39; could be.
And if I'm stuck, unable to move, I simply say to myself: "You jump out of the tree, girl. You can do everything."
So you can. Take the smallest action and commit to mutations. Joy is waiting for you out of your fear.