Standing At The Precipice

We hiked a long and dusty road, past sand dunes and trees growing sideways from the wind’s perpetual barrage. We saw the Green Sand Beach and made our way to the southernmost point of Hawaii. We were covered in dust, we felt it in our hair, in our pores, and in our mouths. The boys–with the help of their aunt– wrote a poem to capture the moment.

Sun growling through the dusty billows of eroded green and black,
Sand clinging to air covering coating caking consuming all moisture…

We found ourselves burdened by all the things we owned, driven by a mad pace of living, estranged from things that once felt so dear, caught in the unwavering current of the mainstream; we happened to catch a glimpse of an alternative.

As we approached the cliff at South Point, dust in our eyes, our hair, our mouths, nothing looked so irresistible as that water down below. A few brave souls were giving way to temptation and leaping off the side, dropping forty feet to the sea.

There are other options. There are other paths that one might tread. We’ve met many strong families who move together about the world, becoming ever more resilient.

In that moment, there was nothing we wanted more than to take that leap.

But what about the people we love here? The good work we are doing? The comfort of our way, our nest, our known quantities? We hesitate. 

We weren’t prepared. Those other jumpers had swimsuits and guidebooks. Our family is not so sure it’s a good idea. We hesitate, mull it over, maybe next time.

We decided that the idea is not forever but just for now. This is our chance.

When will we be here again? 

We made a plan for the prosaic logistics, gave thanks to our community, shed the house, the car, and packed our bags.

Stripping down to our underwear, we crept closer to the edge and the signs warning potential cliff-jumpers away, watching those ahead of us to be sure this thought was not folly, waiting for the courage that would take us over the precipice.

The feeling of utter terror and weightlessness begs us to reconsider—are we sure this is not a terrible mistake? Our stomachs churn, keeping us up at night.

We have taken other—smaller—jumps in the past. Our resolve hardens. Step. Heart beats. Step. Breath steadies. Step. Mind focuses…

Despite all logic, despite all thinking and rational thought, despite all the planning, we can’t help but feel startlingly uncomfortable. But we know that we cannot hope to experience all life has to offer if we are not willing to step out of ‘comfortable.’

We are not too old, too scared, too unprepared, or too numb from predictability to seize this moment. Nor are you. 

Ready? Yes. Leap!