I have been re-reading a book by Pema Chodron called Taking the Leap. First of all, I really like the title. A few months ago, our newsletter featured the importance of "feeding the right wolf." The essence of the story, drawn from this same book, is that a Native American grandfather was attempting to explain violence and cruelty in the world as two wolves fighting in his heart-one was vengeful and angry; the other understanding and kind. When the grandson asked, "How can you tell which wolf will win?" The grandfather responded "the one that wins will be the one we choose to feed." Read more on Feeding the Right Wolf , (scroll down to News You Can Use in the archived Newsletter.) 

Chodron reminds us that "taking the leap" involves making a commitment to ourselves and to the earth itself, making the commitment to let go of old grudges and the tendency to cling to our fears.

Later in the book, Chodron describes the experience of "getting hooked" through shenpa, or times when our identity is threatened in some way. Many of us encounter these moments during visits with family, which often occur during the month of August. It may start with a sense that we're being criticized about our appearance, our beliefs, or our inability to help family in the correct way when the crisis of loss, illness, or some other difficulty strikes.

Chodron encourages us to resist the urge to escape, the tendency to cut off ourselves or others who seem to threaten us - in other words, to avoid what hooks us. The antidote to this is to stay present, to become curious instead of reacting in the same old ways.

Another way that we stay hooked is by holding on to old story lines that tend to feed the feelings of being threatened by another person or circumstance. "Oh, that's just like her to react in that small-minded way." Or "why does he focus on what is so hard for me anyway and make it worse?" Or the familiar, "that just keeps happening, no matter what I do." So we give up on goals that really matter, or relationships that are deeply important because they are too hard - we just keep getting hooked.

One of the experiences that I enjoy in August is watching trout leap out of the water on our little lake in Maine. In attempting to understand this phenomenon, I happened on the story of the Pacific leaping blenny. The blenny is a marine fish that lives on land and can leap long distances despite having no legs.

Scientists point out that the blenny needs to stay moist enough to breathe through its gills and skin yet it actively avoids being completely submerged in water. To reach higher ground, they twist their bodies and flick their tails to leap many times their own size.

My search regarding leaping fish also led me to the tendency of the humpback whale to leap as much as 50 feet in the air, despite weighing as much as 30 tons. Experts who have studied and photographed leaping humpbacks have found that playful younger whales tend to spark the adults into a burst of leaping, where they can be seen flinging their fins into the air as they jump.

Many theories have been advanced to explain why various types of fish leap. One possibility is that some fish leap to feed on insects that lie on top of the water. Another is that some species jump to help loosen their eggs when they are spawning, or to get rid of certain pesky parasites, or even to escape dangerous predators (like the fisherman's hook).

Yet, other experts point out their sense that a primary "reason" for jumping is to play, to express their powerful energy, and just because they can. It seems to me that this activity offers additional possibilities of "taking the leap" that can augment Chodron's ideas.

The leaping fish suggests a metaphor for how humans can better deal with threats. Perhaps we can learn to extend ourselves in order to leap as an expression of our own abilities to move toward joy just because we can. Perhaps the more we practice, the more playful we can feel. And maybe we can leap to free ourselves of whatever threatens to weight us down rather than biting the hook of our habitual responses to what might hurt us.

Wherever you are this summer, and whatever your circumstances, I hope you can find ways to take the leap into playful expression and movement that can also help you loosen the hooks that can keep you stuck.

For more information, see Pema Chodron's book Taking the Leap and various Google links to explain the mystery of why fish jump.