I did feel, for some time, as if I were standing upon the edge of a high cliff, buffeted roughly by the winds, staring off into the distance of the larger world. I imagined myself there, sometimes, in a white robe with my hair fluttering against my forehead and into my eyes as I considered the fall I might step into.
Was I ready to fall? Would the descent be one of profound exhilaration or intense fear? Would my skin burn, my pulse race, would my life flash before me as if I were at the moment of my end? Or would I float, free and unencumbered by the harsher truths of being, into the cavern of which I could see no end and can only hope will indeed be infinite... or would I fly?
and the temptation to step back, retreat down the edge of that cliff, and back to the safety of the known, was nearly greater than the temptation to see where this fall might lead me. Nearly enough to remain safe, untouched, detached and invulnerable to the possibility of a more terrible loss than I've suffered before. Nearly, but not enough I suppose.
Upon the advice of my somewhat impetuous nature, I took that step. I felt the cold stone gravel of the cliff under my bare toes (reminding me of the reality I could grasp if I desired), the whispers of wind tasting between them as if in anticipation of their freedom to devour those eight tiny spaces once unencumbered by the solidity of ground (whispering of the delights and horrors they might show me). I think I may have held my breath first, I cannot now remember, but at last I stepped off into that full emptiness, no not emptiness, full haze of where I'd never had the courage to venture before. And now I believe I may be free.
Still I am at the beginning of the fall. I feel the airs, the deepening, of my descent around me but cannot quantify my speed or depth right now. This is an unpredictable experiment, experience, that does not frighten me as it perhaps should do. For I have now become a vulnerable woman; I could be hurt, and terribly, I could lose this gamble and find myself crashing nude and defenseless upon the jagged cliffs which slide in and out of possibility somewhere below me.
I know I will never escape that possibility... there will never be any guarantee... but this fall seems somehow safe, built upon the rock (though not of ages) and strong enough to support whatever may come in time.
Some may think I stepped into this too soon, that time and familiarity would lessen the branches and snags which may reach out to end this. That, maybe, there are proper time lines, sequences and formulas which the wise adhere to with diligence. I, though, have never learned to be quite diligent and time too often does not apply. I feel I stood on that cliff for a lifetime and have been falling ever since. I even feel, maybe, that I stood there before I knew it, knew him, waiting for this wonderful, amazing inspiration to give me strength and ease my fears... but that may be just another fantasy.
For now I can only enjoy the joy, wonder, fear and awe which accompanies this fall, this flight, and anticipate the new wonders, delights and tears which must inevitably accompany me on this journey.