Every few months I'm reminded of how human we all are. It doesn't take much, an ill parent, a dead pet, sometimes even a friend who has passed. This is all sounding much more depressing than I intend it to, but my reflections are more about what we do with the time we have.
We've all heard the songs, the sayings: don't take life for granted, live every day like it's your last. More often than not we'll be temporarily inspired until we get cocky again and rest right back on our laurels. We are not all the gun-ho, skydiving bunch that can sell their cars off to travel for a year. Our self-preservation kicks in and saves us, if that's what you believe; it is our ally and our enemy.
I'm reflecting on all this at the moment because my father is laying in bed sick to the point that it shakes me to my core. I know it's probably just the flu, but being reminded that the person who has been your rock, someone that as a child you imagined invincible, that even they can fall prey to something as tiny as bacteria makes you a little weary about your own mortality. If someone so strong can be weakened so easily what's stopping you from falling just as hard?
I flashback to childhood, when I had my whole life ahead of me and the dreams I had were as real as the faith I had in Santa, or the Tooth Fairy. My brother and I would swim out in the Pacific Ocean at 7 in the morning, 10 feet from the dolphins, unaware of the 50 degree water we waded in. We'd take dares to see who can ride down the hills of Paulsen Rd the fastest, often resulting in fighting over who had the worst scars from the crash.
I remember my dad when he was angry. I feared and awed him at the same time. One word would silence our entire house, and I marveled at such power. Sometimes he'd go out back and all I'd hear for hours was hammering, him taking out his aggression on a defiant nail in a two by four. My brother and I would tiptoe around, playing as quietly as we could, our self-preservation telling us to tread carefully. Sometimes if we slipped and were noisy we'd hear the sound of his steel toe boots quickly coming towards us, and we'd rush to a grove of redwood trees in our yard as fast as we could, and once we were safe and hidden laugh and revel in the thrill of our escape.
So how do you play? Cautious and aware that at any moment life can cut your legs right from under you? Or do you challenge the fall, jump even, because that brief moment of life, that breath of air, more vivid than any other you have taken, brings not only oxygen to your blood but sends an unrivaled force throughout your entire being, even just for a second. Is it worth the leap?
It's so easy for us to say take the leap. Actually taking it provides the challenge.
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