Why walk when you can fly?

So in honor of turning 35 26, I decided to go to trapeze school. Because, you know, safe on my couch at three a.m. it sounded like a darn good idea. You know why? Because my couch is on the ground. In my house. Which is also firmly affixed to a foundation.

But seriously. Somewhere long about the second kid, I started weighing all risks in terms of disasters that may befall me. I went from a snowboarding, rock-climbing girl to a mama that would yell at her kids to get down from that fountain before they fell in. I used to be in that fountain, darnit! Topless! (Hi, Mom! Not really. Totally kidding for the blog. Don’t ask anyone about 1995.)

So I decided to give in to my inner adrenaline junkie and fly at DC Trapeze School. And you know what? It was awesome. Here’s a pictorial:

Climb The Ladder

Look straight ahead, not up or down-  when you get to the top, clamber onto the platform with your mind turned off. “I will not think, I will not think.” Every fibre of your body is trying to convince you to get back to ground, ASAP. The fear is stronger than you’d anticipated.

Prepare for Flight

You stand on the platform, toes over the edge. “Throw your hips forward,” Everett, your spotter,  urges. “You won’t fall.” Your rational mind believes, but your body won’t obey. Then, you remember what he said on the ground. “Listen to me. Don’t make it harder then it has to be.” You thrust your hips forward, feel his secure grip on the back of the belt. Your hands get traction on the trapeze bar. You’re ready.

Suddenly, you fly.

“One, two, three, hep!” Everett says, and you remember what Hep means. Bend knees, hop off the platform. Bring your feet together. You cut through the air and feel a “Whoosh” around your body. At the apex, you wonder how you’ll hold on. But the pendulum swings back, the pressure eases. You understand what people love. You feel strong and sure, secure in your gravitational insecurity.

Legs Up

Suddenly, the impossible is routine. “Legs up!” Your caller shouts from the ground, at precisely the right moment of momentum. Casually, without thinking, you swing your feet up and hook them over the bar. It takes you back to the playground, the first wondrous moment you realized this was an option. You could turn the world on its head, shift perspectives completely.

Let Go

“Hands off!” the caller shouts, and again, you know this is when you listen. You are to simply do it. Not ask how, or why, or hem and haw. You let go. And it is wondrous. You arch your back and look behind you, point your fingers as you were shown on the ground. It feels completely natural, as though you do it every day.

“Hands up!” the caller yells, and, with some trepidation, you reach for the bar. But amazingly, your upper body pops up and your hands grab the bar securely.

“Legs down!” you hear, and reluctantly you bring them down the way you came. One final swing, then you drop to the net, your fall governed by the safety line the caller holds. You bounce your way over to the dismount handles, noticing how your legs feel like jelly. You lie on the net, hold the handles, and flip onto the ground as you’ve been shown.

And you’re already eyeing that ladder, wondering when you get to go back up.

“Why Walk When You Can Fly”, Mary Chapin Carpenter