Potential and Kinetic Metaphors

Roller-coaster metaphors have been popping up around me a lot over the last few days. And while they do seem to match this particular part of my life path, I'm really not fond of them. The jostling, the racket of the track which never changes, being surrounded by people having the same ride and screaming their own experience into the air. That's *really* not my cup of tea.

I've been describing this period of impending transition as "Taking a leap with all the materials necessary to build a parachute on the way down." While it's funny and gets most of my point across, it's not exactly the metaphor I'm looking for either. Even though I don't know what's out there and I'm not sure how it's going to happen, I still believe pretty strongly that this leap is about creating and experiencing new heights much more than transforming potential energy into a wild kinetic ride only to land (hopefully softly) on the ground somewhere below.

There is A LOT of faith involved in making my current life choices. It's the kind of faith that invites fear to get the hell out of the way. It's not that I'm fearless or reckless or even particularly courageous. It's that my life is so full of love and blessing that I really don't have much choice but to know that things will work out in their highest and best good.

So, no. This is not a roller-coaster. And these materials aren't for a parachute after all. This is a hang-glider I'm building, and soon I'll be soaring with the eagles. This is stepping off a cliff knowing that my body and support system will be able to sense and ride on the invisible but powerful thermals that are just waiting out there to lift us up.

This is my love-note to all the people in my life who make up my hang-glider. The ones who stand straight and strong against the buffeting gusts. The ones who wrap close and hold tight. The ones who stretch wide and flutter and giggle in the breezes. The ones who bend into the wind and help me get where I think I want to go. Thank you for making the space and time for me to try my wings.

This is also a love-note to Spirit. Who sings in my heart, whispers in my ear, and lifts my feet off the ground.

It is the wind asking me "How good can you stand it?"
And my reply, "Even more than I can imagine tonight!"

Two Years in a week

*flipping the lights on*
*pulling the dust covers off*
*doing an instrument check*
*stretching little-used muscles*

In one week, the hardware in my back will be 2 years old. What have I learned? What has changed? What endures? 2 years is a blink, 2 years is an age.

I'll be back next week.