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It feels like Christmas when I see Rick Hanson'sJust One Thing e-mail in my inbox. Like a little kid, I rip it open with a mouse-stroke and dig out the gift inside. This morning, the usual insightful essay was packaged with a smaller bonus gift. Almost as an aside, Hanson linked to an extreme-sports video.
I was in the habitual hurry, and hesitated when I saw that it would devour twenty-some minutes of precious morning time. Still, I trust Rick and forged ahead. The video clip featured a new sport in which riders ski off a precipice wearing a parachute. They alternate between skiing and flying to the bottom. The splendor of the setting, intensity of focus, and perfection of skill left me breathless and reflecting.
I hate heights, and my fear of falling avoids slippery surfaces, steep slopes, and open air in any combination. Perhaps that is why I am drawn to those who make love with the demon I dread. In this video, Antoine Montant combines skiing the best conditions with flying over impossible ones. Unlike base jumpers, who fly the whole way, speed riders hang tight to the mountainside. In and out of touch, they read the terrain with precision, engaging and releasing in turn.
I am intrigued by the implications of this sport for the adventure of everyday life. We are always, in some way, jumping off a cliff into open air. Just waking up confronts the slippery slope of a new day. In recent weeks, new days have surprised me with unexpected success, a trip to the emergency room, a middle-of-the-night phone call, a life lost to cancer, and the news of "twins" to a friend...dropping again and again off the precipice of life.
I usually jump with eyes screwed shut and breath held tight. At best, I cling white-knuckled to the parachute and glide as far from the cliff as I can, maintaining distance from any possible point of impact. Rarely do I choose to hug the cliff, touching down intentionally to experience the ride before lifting over another hazard on the path. I sense that those who confront their monsters up-close know them better and live with them in peace. I suspect they have less fear and more joy.
Antoine Montant died in October 2011 when his parachute failed. This intense young man followed his passion, perfected his talent, engaged in close contact with reality, and died in the arms of his beloved mountains. I wish as much for myself, for you, and for everyone we care about.
Let go of your fears and click here to fly for two minutes with Antoine. How does it feel? Can you picture this remarkable ride applying to your own life? Can you envision the focus, practice, and skill that will help you touch the beauty and soar above the snow slides along your way?
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