The Climb and The Fall.

There has to be laughter and alot of do overs for it to be worth my while. I'm standing at the edge of a cliff pondering my decent. No worries, the skydiving parachute is securely attached. The climb to the top of the cliff was treacherous, heart pounding, slow, awkward, methodical, and astounding, with some laughter and blisters thrown in. I am at the top. My family is also here. We are all gazing down into the valley. The very same valley we just came from. The wind whips up the dust and my hair flies into my face. The look on my children's faces is that of sheer recklessness mixed with a bit of deep down delight and bravery. I wonder if my face reflects back this same puzzled look. We stand a top this cliff for what seems like hours, pondering our landing, our wires, our parachutes, our views. We wonder if this might be a one time deal. Will we ever stand here again? And then we jump. We all jump together. We hold hands. We smile puzzled smiles. We hold on to what we know is true and right. Some of us close our eyes.

And then we land. In a new house. In a new school. In a new community. In a new neighborhood. In new rooms. In new patterns. We all hit the ground at the same time. Some of us land on our feet. Some of us land on our rumps. We are all still holding hands so we can help steady the person to the right of us. We smile at each other and off we go. I cannot write what I don't know, so I stop here. The letting go and moving on will have to take up another one of my spaces.

For right now, I am wondering about the climbing and falling. We sold our first home in a spectacular four days and moved out on May 25, 2012. My already too grown up seven year old was not even out of 1st grade. We knew we had to move closer to Seattle, but where? No house picked out yet. No community nailed down yet. We were homeless. We moved in with my folks, two blocks down. Essentially put every item we owned (even toys!) into storage. I instructed my children to pick out three toys for the summer. Buster, our beloved cat moved away from us (temporarily). We had begun our accent. We knew eventually we would step off into uncharted territory. We were content to be still within our community and our same surroundings. As time went on (as we climbed further and further up) we forgot a little bit what it felt like to be in the comforting valley.  Toys and treasures were forgotten. Old, bad habits were done away with. New books were discovered. Of course there were tree roots that tripped us up. We had alot of do overs. But there was laughter too. Laughter for our odd place. Laughter for our toy choices. Laughter for new found mysterious spots. Laughter as we rounded the bend and could see the top.

So we found a soon-to-be-built house in the Issaquah Highlands. 17 miles from Seattle! Great schools! Mountains. Views of the Bellevue and Seattle cityscape. Glorious views of the Olympics. This gave us a jolt of energy. The house had a move in date scheduled for the end of summer. Our excitement blossomed into kinetic ticks of activity. There were still tree roots. But we started to recognize these stumbling blocks and would look to each other for support. We held hands more. Each of us began to realize that there would be a time in which nothing was familiar except for our four faces and personalities. This comforted us. This angered us. We made a paper chain to symbolize D-day. Departure day. We acquired new treasures that could be taken along for the ride. And then we took pause. There is seemed to be so much fanfare in the last 20 strides that was beyond our control that we had to take stock. We had to huddle up. We had to dig deep. This was nothing compared to the last step that would have to be taken.

There is a certain amount of planning that goes into the falling. There is also a certain amount of trust.  We all knew that there would be a moment - a moment in which we would all have to jump and trust in each other's heart. We are seven days away from our jump. We have already linked hands. We unknowingly childishly gesture at each other, wondering if any of us will back out. But we also have confidence in each others intent. There is no fear of heights. We long to gaze down into the valley. We long to take the first step off the cliff. We long for a different view. A different perspective. A different angle. A pause before the landing. We are connected. We are our own home. We may traverse this road again. We may jump again. But we do it together. We laugh together. We forgive each other. We live together withinin the climbing and falling.

Adventure

Ok, so this may take some popcorn...and some napkins...and maybe a drink...Are you all settled down to watch an action packed thriller?

Not me, I just had to remember my blogging username and password so I decided popcorn was an order. Long time no see (or hear, if you prefer). What's been happening? Any new adventures? Did you save the world while I was gone? Any new beings discovered? Any new arch rivals I should be concerned about?

No adventures, you say? Couldn't be. Adventure awaits around every corner! Adventure is every tree stump just waiting to be jumped from. It is the backyard jungle, waiting to be explored. It is the uncharted creek calling you to keep walking. It is the story book. It is the pool filled with giant human fish. It is the dark room shined bright only by a flashlight. It is the butterfly that just can't seem to be caught. It is the sand, molded into a castle wall which holds the entire ocean at bay. It is the quiet time that seems to bend our imagination. These are true adventures.The world is unlimited in its possibilities. These are my kids. This are your kids. These adventures are our children.

At what age does the our world cease to be amazing? Do you remember when you turned the corner and there was no adventure waiting for you? Or did your adventures fade out gradually? Why is it so hard to hold onto these awesome feelings? Are we too old? Too educated? Too busy? Too comfortable? Too tired? Too unimaginative to have an adventure?

My already too grown up seven year old loves adventure. His books are saturated with it. His mind is bent around it. There is a mystery waiting to be solved at every transition. My almost four year old tugs at adventure. She dares herself to jump from a higher stair than last time. She holds her breath for a few seconds longer each time she dunks her head in the pool. It is enticing. It must feel glorious and a bit scary all at the same time.

These feelings get buried in some of us. Each moment that passes there is less and less adventure. We grow up. This is somehow okay with all of us. We can watch a movie.

I wonder what it would look like though if we treated each new morning as an adventure. Each new moment as a possible ninja battle attack or a high jumping contest. Our glorious earth and all it surroundings should be our palette and our paintings should turn out to be works of art, mesmerizing, action packed, totally awesome, fun adventures. Our kids would love us for it!

So, go have an adventure...right now...today.