Scared of..

My two line limerick regarding dropping myself off into the sky, is a metaphor for the wish and the will to take risks, Genghis Khan-like, of the stultification of modern day money earning sedentary responsibility and.. no, it’s not.

Dancing for Club Med in the night time, teaching archery and yoga in the daytime left little time for play in my team of..one.  But there was one thing I could do during my second season posted to the Dominican Republic, where, happily, a(nother) military coup meant I was stuck there for the duration and unable to get back to Blighty for my university.  Ah, me.

 

So no play time, or so I thought.  Those windsurfers remained untested, as did my beloved monoski.  What to do?  The only thing left for me to do, my last (and first) ditch resort.  Those circus chaps were practising in the deepening night of the wild Caribbean, or as it was then, alas, before mega-building took hold and direct flights ruined the romance.

One blessed hour between wrapping up my bows and arrows and doing nice nice for the guests at dinner (before dancing on stage and then, oh, rehearsing for the next show and maybe some sleep).  What to do?  Creeping along spy-like, I see the circus team flinging themselves off the outdoor trapeze.  I’ve wanted to fly trapeze since I was four years old and used to hang upside down by my heels (yes) on the climbing frame.

So up I go to play, and chuck myself off into the darkness.  It wasn’t long before I was taking part in their shows, and not long before I had My First Fall.  Lou on the line wasn’t looking (do you like the alliteration?).  He was chatting to someone to the far, far left.  He forgot to pull, and I missed my catcher and fell like a stone into the net, and bounced off it onto the ground.

I had the lovliest of scars, sort of like a hash, if you see what I mean.  And a black eye.  I put factor 50 on that scar, but I still have a trace of it today.  A small reminder of fearlessness, playfulness, laughing with life and the world.  Oh.  It’s as if I lived many lives in one.  But you know?  I can remember.  And it’s quite lovely, and the memories are mine, wrapped up in twilight velvet like a precious thing I only take out in times of loss, worry, and all the terrible things we adults do when we forget what it is to really adventure.  Blessings to you all x

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