So many new beginnings. My life went from one "norm" (although, nothing has really felt "normal" in my life), to one extreme other. I moved on from my old world in NYC at Sony, to a new job I am adoring being challenged by. I find my days filled with an interesting balance of shyness and impulsivity, one constantly trying to cancel the other out. I think it's very interesting how brand new experiences that bring you out of your comfort zone can so often illuminate the conflicting forces within you. Or, maybe that's just me. One second I am poised for attack, the other I am dropping a full cup of coffee all over myself.
Tonight, after coming home, cooking dinner, practicing and now settling in with this laptop and a book, I kept refreshing the same memory in my mind. Maybe because it's finally starting to feel like summer out - the humidity forced us all to huddle into our short sleeves on the overly air-conditioned subway and my apartment smells like a jungle - but the image that kept coming to mind was from when I was probably 12 years old at the pool.
I was visiting my best friend in Albany, Erin, for probably a whole week that summer, and one of our favorite things to do was to go to the pool. She had this massive pool in her town with three different sizes: a kiddie pool, a normal-sized pool for adults and kids, and a 'deep-end only' pool with this high diving board that looked like it was miles above the pool itself. I had a burst of adrenaline upon arriving at the park, and wanted to try every pool. I waited in the long line for the high dive, Erin and her sister Leah watching from the other side of the pool for my turn (both in awe of my bravery, of course!), and boldly ascended the never-ending staircase to the plank at the top. Finally, after a few steps, the boy in front of me dove off and it was my turn. I was on top of the diving board, on top of the world!
...And then I reached the tip of the board. All of a sudden, I realized the lifeguard was several feet BELOW me, perched on top of his post. Erin and Leah were jumping around like little ants, in my imagination, waving and squealing for me to "JUMP!!" And, most terrifying, the water below... was pitch black. I couldn't see the bottom, why - at this angle I felt like if I fell just a little too much to the left I'd land on the fence beside it! I could hear the kids behind me screaming, and with a lurch of nausea I panicked, "I can't go!!!" I shouted to the lifeguard, who was waving for me to jump so the line of kids waiting could have their turn. "You have to!!" He called back, unhelpfully. I froze in panic, and then tried to turn around to go back down the stairs, "NO!! You HAVE TO JUMP!!" The angry line of prepubescent boys yelled back at me. I'm sure I was crying, and at this point I was angry, so realizing I had no choice, I turned back to face the water, screwed up whatever courage I had left, and barreled at light speed off the end and into the pool, splashing a delighted Erin and Leah.
And I loved it.
So many stories go this way: forced to do something terrifying with no escape, keeping you from being able to turn and run back to safety, and with only the dark, cold unknown ahead. It's such a cliche I'm almost embarrassed writing it, except - it didn't occur to me until today why I kept thinking about it. I didn't realize how true it was of my life. I am the over-thinker who weighs all horrible possibilities before taking a leap - so much so that the leap sometimes doesn't happen. But, so often when I look back on my life, the exhilarating moments; the times that blew my mind, changed who I was and made me stronger, were forced upon me. I'd watch others handle change easily, joyfully, like the boys before me on the high dive, but I'd get to my own pinnacle and freeze. Often times, if there was real danger, there was always a way out. But, the times where I needed to move forward, was not allowed to turn back, and just had to leap into the dark, were, and are, the most exciting times in life.
I have my floaties ready for a summer filled with leaps...
