Category Archives: Ramblings

Jump!

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“When it feels scary to jump, that is exactly when you jump. Otherwise you end up staying in the same place your entire life.” —

Oscar Isaacs as Abel Morales in A Most Violent Year

While walking through the park the other day I watched a group of little girls running along the top for five picnic tables which had been arranged in a long straight row. The elevation of the tables provided added excitement and the girls giggled with the sheer delight as they dashed from one end to the other and back again. As I got a little closer, I noticed that there were two little girls standing at the end of the last table in line. A girl in a pink and white sundress stood on the ground while her friend remained at the edge looking down at the ground. “Jump. Jump,” the one in pink implored, but her friend hesitated. I wanted to stop and ask the one considering the jump what she was thinking. What was she weighing in her little mind? Was it the distance from table to grass? Was it the fear of a hard landing? Was it peer pressure that caused her to consider jumping in the first place? I walked on while the hesitation and the cajoling continued, but I’ve thought a lot about those barefoot girls in their summer dresses.

Summer Morning
Star Island, 2019

About fifteen years ago my sister, Kelly, invited me to join a group of women on a white water rafting trip down the Gauley River in West Virginia. The morning of the promised adventure the eight of us, in various sizes, colors, ages, and levels of fitness and only loosely connected by a shared relationship to my sister, climbed into the raft together.

The first test came when our guide, young Captain Mike, who at that time was still under the impression that he was in control of a boatload of middle aged women, informed us that we were approaching Jump Rock. “This is Jump-Rock,” he said in his most authoritative voice. “It’s not Climb-Up-There-and-Decide-Rock. Once you’re out of the raft there’s only one way back in. You have to jump.”

I’m usually pretty timid about such things and I hate heights, but as I gazed up at the cliff face I suspected that the tenor of our entire adventure hinged on this decision. I was going to climb up there and jump. When the others who were hesitating saw me…old, chubby, and out of shape…preparing to make the trek up rocky path to the top they too gathered their courage and we all jumped off that rock.

She took a leap of faith and grew her wings on the way down. 

David Brinkley

I suppose you could call my jump…holding my nose, my eyes squeezed shut, and yelling all the way down…a minor leap of faith. I’d watched others do it before me. I was confident in what lay ahead. I knew that eventually I’d hit the icy water, sink momentarily beneath the surface and then pop up gasping for air and, I imagined, feeling exalted. It took a fair amount of courage on my part to move from tera firma, but in doing so I was given the wings of self-confidence, fearlessness, and moxie. From that point on we were bonded; we were invincible! That day was one of my peak life experiences. I sometimes wonder, would that have been the case if I’d remained in the raft and merely watched?

White Water Rafting
Pixabay Photo

Often of late, I find myself standing at the edge of what feels solid and comfortable contemplating whether to jump or not. The loss of my partner has also meant I’ve lost a part of who I am or at least who I was when I was part of a team. I am trying to discover, create, or at least identify who am becoming. That journey involves risk and taking chances. Sometimes the metaphorical jump is just a matter of going to the movies by myself, walking into a restaurant and asking for a table for one, or checking into a hotel and only needing a single key. Do I jump or do I stay in the boat?

A Soft Day in Scotland, 2014

On a trip to Scotland in 2014, Cousin Doug, coaxed and teased me into taking a short hike up a. steeper than I’d like, hillside to see one of Rob Roy’s hideouts. I wasn’t planning to hike that day and was ill prepared, without proper footwear, or my hiking poles. Then it began to drizzle. it was Scotland after all. I was soon wet, tired and the trail had turned to mud. Oh, the evils of peer pressure!

I finally convinced Doug that I was in beyond my skill level and needed to turn back. Taking a different…supposedly shorter…return route we came to a very small stream…a trickle really…that Doug hopped over effortlessly.

“Jump,” he said. “You can do it.”

“No, I can’t,” I replied.

“Sure you can. Just jump.”

“Jump into the middle of things, get your hands dirty, fall flat on your face, and then reach of the stars.”

Ben Stein

Moments later I lifted my head from the mud where I had landed face first, to see my sweet cousin convulsed with laughter.

Life presents us all with choices. Do we stay with what we know or do we take a risk and discover something new? Do we jump and learn to fly or are we content to hang onto the branch for a while and enjoy the way it sways gently in the breeze ?

“The sparrows jumped before they knew how to fly, and they learned to fly only because they had jumped” 

Lauren Oliver, Liesl and Po

The real leap of faith is learning to trust ourselves to know when it’s right to step off and when we need to stand firm. It’s perfectly fine to wait on the edge, contemplate, and step back for a while or to decide not to jump at all. No one is ever forced to climb Jump Rock and we can always just wade through the stream or we simply slide off end of the picnic table. Then again…flying is pretty cool and if you get a face-full of mud it makes a good story.

Jump or not…the choice is ours.

I Am…

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“I am not what I ought to be, I am not what I want to be, I am not what I hope to be in another world, but still I am not what I once used to be, and by the grace of God I am what I am.” John Newton

Have you ever played the game…”I Am”? In the game, you are challenged to find all the ways you can answer the question, “Who are you?” Here are a few of my responses: I am a woman entering her seventh decade with a little trepidation and fear, but primarily filled with a sense of adventure and a willingness to embrace life. I am a retired teacher who still enjoys being with children more than adults. I am a daughter, a sister, a mother, and a grandmother…not necessarily in that order. I am a child of the Midwest who put down roots in Vermont and North Carolina. I am a Unitarian Universalist, Christian, Pagan, Seeker. I am blessed by lifelong friendships and the wonder of friendships that are just beginning. Now, too, I am a widow.

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The Queen’s View, Scotland

When I wrote those words a few months ago, I was just beginning to come to terms with the fact that widowhood was now the most prominent color in the rainbow of who I am. The death of my husband affects every aspect of my life, from the huge decisions I am now making alone to the smallest details of everyday life. I keep buying more fruit than I can possibly eat, and what do I do with a brand new container of shaving cream that I’m never going to use?

I’ve also come to recognize how widows communicate wordlessly across a room, acknowledging that you both understand the other in a way that was previously impossible. You’re both card-carrying, dues-paying members in a club that neither of you wanted to join, and yet you consider ditching the traditional Widow’s Weeds for the official t-shirt…”Now what”?

Yes, the label is inescapable. I am many things, and widow is among them, but it doesn’t always have to be the final word in the paragraph or the only definition of who I am.

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Kennebunkport, ME

Navigating these new waters isn’t easy, but I come from strong stock. My ancestors journeyed across the Atlantic in small ships, for heaven’s sake. I can do this. Besides, the ship I’m on has already left the harbor. My ticket has been punched. I have no choice but to sail on. What I can choose, however, is whether I’ll make the journey above deck, scanning the horizon for my next port, or if I’ll wallow in my cot below. In truth, I’m pretty sure that as much as I wish it were otherwise, there will be many days when I find myself curled up in that cot, but I’m hopeful that most of the time you’ll find me standing in the sun, salt spray in my face, and with the wind in my hair.

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Waiting for Hamilton to begin and ready to Rise Up!

A Time Turner

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“Mysterious thing, Time. Powerful, and when meddled with, dangerous.” Dumbledore

J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Detail of The Astronomical Clock. ― Cathedral of Our Lady of Strasbourg, France

My granddaughter gave me a keychain replica of Hermione’s Time Turner for my seventieth birthday. Of course, as any fan of Harry Potter could tell you, all the actual Time Turners…including Hermione’s…were destroyed during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. Nevertheless, a Time Turner and the mere possibility of controlling time seemed to be the perfect gift for someone entering their eighth decade.

I do love the idea of being able to turn back time. Think of the possibilities! Perhaps I could return and savor those really precious, everyday moments that I had taken for granted at the time. Maybe I’d avoid the hurts I’d caused myself, and especially those careless mistakes that cause pain to others. I’d have the chance to study harder, listen more deeply, hug more often, take more risks, and be willing to wait more patiently. However, Dumbledore is right. When meddled with, time can be a dangerous thing. It’s impossible to change our actions in the past without affecting the present. It makes me wonder, what part of my present would I be willing to risk for the past?

For a long time, I thought of time as a linear progression; a perpetual “and then” story. Lately, I’ve come to think about time as a labyrinth. We move forward and then circle back. We can see where we’ve been, even though we’re not absolutely certain where we’re going. We just keep moving forward, hoping to spend some time in the quiet center.

I’m hoping my labyrinth is the meditative type with a peaceful center not the kind with a Minotaur at the end.

I think this blog with be much like a labyrinth. My steps will inevitably take me on paths into the future, but my inner time turner will also encourage me to loop back and spend some time in the past as well. The nature of a labyrinth means I can also greet those who retrace my steps and take courage and inspiration from those who trod the way ahead of me. I’ll share some of their lessons too.

Found on the labyrinth at Los Abrigados, Sedona, AZ.

Perhaps you’ll travel with me for a while. That would be great. Every journey is better when shared with a friend, but I know, too, that you have your own labyrinth to walk. Let’s at least wave as we pass, and may we always walk in peace, hope, and love.

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