Friday, July 12, 2013

The Leap

30 days to go


                There is (or was) at my old highschool an adventure ropes course. One of the requirements to pass physical education was to make the trek across the parking lot and, in small groups work your way from the small elements on the ground to the bridges soaring 30 feet above, hanging in the trees in a vaguely threatening and exciting way. At fifteen years old, and scared to death of heights, I climbed my way up the iron rungs that had been nailed into a tree that looked frighteningly thin to be supporting my hundred and eighty pounds, not to mention the square wooden platform I was gradually, hesitatingly, making my way toward. When I reached the top, I stayed for a moment on all fours, working up the nerve to stand. The harness, connected tenuously to a thin strand of rope was tight, and the crouching position I had willed myself into made the thick woven straps dig into my legs, cutting off my circulation. 
                I pulled myself up using the trunk of the tree as a crutch, and felt the lump in my nervous teenage stomach drop a little lower as I felt the platform sway, ever so slightly. Human beings, I thought to myself, whatever our ancestry, do not belong in trees. I surveyed the course ahead. The course was composed of four platforms suspended in the trees in a straight line. They hung from the thick branches, suspended by a rope at each corner, so that even in the light spring breeze that was rapidly cooling the sweat gathering on my brow, they swung ever so slightly. The platforms were about five feet apart from each other and the end of the course, but to my mind the gaps stretched to five times that distance. The object, seemingly insane as it was, was to hurl yourself from the relative safety of the first stationary platform out into the void, landing on the nearest swinging one. This horrifying process needed to be repeated four additional times until you arrived at the final platform, this one stationary, and climbed your way down to the waiting ground.
                Egged on by the impatient gym teacher responsible for the safety rope currently connected to the harness at my waist, I inched forward on the first platform. Steeling myself, I looked out to the first swing, shut my eyes and expelled the breath I had unconsciously been holding in. I opened my eyes and took another deep breath. In through the mouth. Out through the nose. I breathed a quiet prayer, and without looking down, darted forward and threw myself into the abyss.
                I leave for Grenada in one month. It seems too short. Or too long. It’s hard to tell these days, because I’m vacillating between extremes of panic and excitement. On the one hand, excited and impatient, to paraphrase Colin Hay (via Scrubs of course) for my real professional life to begin. On the other hand, the island of Grenada is a big unknown for a New Jersey boy who’s never been out of the country (unless you count Canada, and for some reason, no one ever seems to). Fear of the unknown is the root cause of most of the anxious questions filling your head at two a.m.: Can I compete with other students? Will I make friends? What if there’s a mistake and I’m not registered for housing? Will I adjust to island life?
                The answer to all of these questions, of course, is to go back to sleep. No sense worrying when I’ll find the answers in a month. No sense missing out on the precious few hours of rest I had before the alarm went off at 6:30. No sense stressing over what I could not fix.
                I like to think of myself at 22 as relatively courageous. A huge part of playing rugby is letting go of your fear. I usually don’t watch horror movies, because I prefer comedies, but when I do I generally don’t find myself that afraid. The dark doesn’t harbor any monsters. Snakes still cause me to instinctually jump and cringe, but nothing else does.
                I’m hard pressed to explain, then, why the next four years scare me so much. Maybe it’s because it’s the end-game. There are no more buffers, no more room for error. I can’t use the excuses that carried me through my first year of college anymore. But it’s more than just academic anxiety. I know that with hard work, I can get the grades I need to graduate, the grades I need to ensure a good residency placement.
                Everyone has told me how lucky I am to be studying in the Caribbean. A beautiful setting for a great education. Sandy beaches and clear blue water. Being away from Kayleigh will be tough, but it will only be a few months before she’ll join me there.
                As a scientist, I’ve learned that knowledge and evidence are everything. A decision made in the absence of evidence won’t be a good one. It’s hard to take on this new chapter in my life with so few answers. I can’t see what’s ahead. Life is like that sometimes. No matter how much prepare, sometimes the future is a blurry, fuzzy, unknowable thing filled with uneven terrain and missing the steady safety of solid ground.
                I stood (and stand) on the relatively solid, safe platform, and all I can see ahead is a chaotic and constantly shifting series of landings between myself and my goal. Fear doesn’t matter here. As I take that first running step and fling myself out between the trees, I can look down in that split second and see the people below, friends who helped me climb up the tree and convinced me to make the leap. Some of them have already been across.
                My fifteen-year-old self landed easily on that first platform. And the second, and the third and fourth. Today, thirty days away from another leap, I think about how it felt to land on the shifting wood of that first platform. How at first I was filled with fear, and how I realized, only after I had already done it, that I could.
                I leave for Grenada in thirty days. A leap to a platform 2100 miles away with almost no knowledge of what I will find when I land on the other side. I’m full of questions that have no answers. But when the flight takes off, and I glance down at the airport below, and the people who have brought me to that moment, I will think back to that first leap, filling my head not with the blind terror at the start, but the elation of safe landings. I know I will arrive on the other side stronger and smarter and more prepared for the future.

                After all, I’ve already done it once. 

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