Hanging on for Dear Life

• Something Big: Catching the right ledge 

All of my wilderness skills that told me not to stand on damp, mossy rock on the edge of an angry river heading towards a drop off were apparently taking this day off. One moment I was dipping my hands into the cool water for a drink, the next I was tumbling under the water. “I NEED A ROCK” was the only thing I could think. My arm struck down, caught something, and didn’t let go until the leaders of my group rescued me. 3 years later I returned to the same spot. That winter had been drier, and the river was only a small trickle. I searched for the rock that had saved my life. The entire riverbed was a uniform slab of granite with a single crack about 4 feet from the drop off. That was my ledge, and that was the only ledge. I have reflected on this event many times. What would have happened if I had put my arm down a millisecond later? What would have happened if that ledge wasn’t there for me to grab?

• Something Broken: Catching the wrong ledge

Running up a flight of stairs, my foot caught the edge of one of the steps and I landed hard. My knee hurt, but I shook it off, continued up the stairs, and went on a hike. That evening, however, my leg completely gave out. I was in a wheelchair for a few days, crutches after that. Many specialist visits and scans later, the doctors still didn’t have any answers. I had to give up ballet, missed out on fun hikes and adventures, all because I fell up stairs. UP the stairs. That shouldn’t happen.

• Something Artistic: Imprinting 

One evening I was attending one of my mother’s concerts and the piece that was playing struck me like nothing ever had before.  I came often and so was no stranger to good music, but this was different. From the first note I was captivated. For the rest of the piece I was just drinking it all in, squirming in my seat because I couldn’t physically handle the concentration of beauty I was being presented with. I described my experience to my mom, and with a thoughtful smile, she told me that that piece had been playing on a CD when I was born. I would say that that would explain why it had impacted me so much, but claiming that my subconscious remembers the music that was playing during the first few minutes of my life does not seem like a valid explanation.

• Something Mysterious: Trust

I am ok when people say that to love or to be happy is a choice. For me, choosing to trust is sometimes harder. My trust in someone seems so tied to their trustworthiness based on past actions. If I choose to trust someone who isn’t trustworthy, won’t I end up getting hurt? But if I withhold my trust from someone who deserves it, am I hurting our relationship?