Saturday, August 14, 2010
This afternoon we went to a rope swing. How much more quaint can you get than that? A rope that leads to a lake. Very Norman Rockwell. I thought I was going to watch the kids have fun. Instead, I got a lesson on life -- on facing your fears -- or being comfortable enough in your skin not to.
There are thrill seekers and there are those who play it safe and there are those who fall somewhere in the middle. I know that I am not a thrill seeker, and I am quite comfortable in that knowledge. Never was -- never will be. I am a thrill seeker in other ways, but not in the physical thrill seeking kind of way.
I don't do rides that dip (I once freaked out on Epcot's Norway exhibit). I've never been on Space Mountain and the thought of bungee jumping or sky diving make me ill. I don't climb mountains or ski, snow or water. I can get up and talk in front of 1,000 people, but that physical thrill seeking just isn't my cup of tea. But I digress...
In the meantime, C, getting braver with each swing, was twisting and diving off of the rope into the water. K also started twisting with gusto, and A followed suit, although a bit more reserved. N just did her swings bravely in, but had no desire to twist and turn.
(See the kids jumping here: http://www.facebook.com/louisedicarlo)
Each one of them clearly demonstrating their outlooks on life by the way they approached the water. I asked the oldest M why she wouldn't go in. "Oh no Aunt Louise, I'm not sure I could hold onto the rope long enough, and I'm afraid I'd let go too soon and fall into the rocks." I totally identified with her. Even as a child I would have never swung the rope.
The difference between now and then is that then I would have felt defeated, feeling inferior for not having the courage to face my fears and have fun like the others. Today, in fact, right now as I am typing, the adults have gone back with the kids each to have a try at it. When one adult asked if I was going to go, I thought about the fun I had watching, knew there was no way I'd do it, and thought about how inspired I was to write about it. "Nah" I said, "I think I'll stay behind and write." I feel good about my decision.
As a side note, M and my son went with them, both saying that they didn't want to swing. When M came out and had on her bathing suit I asked her if she was going to try. "We'll see Aunt Louise." I'll keep you posted!
Just in.... Son (who insists that I report that he has swung before) and M did not go in!!!