I took a running jump off the edge and then I remembered that I absolutely hate running. I am semi-OK with this concept of flying. I have no idea what I’m going to land on and what creatures will lie below on the jungle floor. I’m more worried about the creatures than falling. What if I land in a pile of poisonous frogs? What if a jaguar is in the tree and sees me as dinner? What if my children decide not to jump and they are left alone at the top with the guide and no one can find me?

For me, this is not an option. I cannot be doing such dangerous things. I need to be precautious and ensure that I don’t injure myself or create a situation that places my children in harm or deep vulnerability.

Who was that beautiful man who talked me into this? He should be ashamed of himself. He clearly has no children. I bet he has no real responsibilities in his life. I’m the one who is a fool for listening to his persuasive tongue. Never in my life would I ever have considered such a precarious situation and I certainly wouldn’t have decided to do such a thing by my own volition. It is clear that his world and mine are too far apart to be considered even remotely relatable. Then again, I’ve had children since I was 20 years old. He’s 29 and still single and living his life as he pleases. I have no idea what such freedom means.

I’ve only known responsibility my entire life. This is also why I don’t know how to have fun.

  • My idea of fun is dancing in my house to music on my headphones and watching my children look at me like I’m crazy.
  • My idea of fun is staring at the sea from my balcony in a new country that I’ve just arrived in.
  • My idea of fun is a meal in a country where I can’t read the menu and I have to interpret what those words mean and know I’m always going to order a mystery.
  • My idea of fun is not risking my physical safety for a temporary high.
  • My idea of fun is nourishing and memorable in a way that doesn’t cause anxiety attacks.

Well, I’ve already jumped. I will enjoy this free flow of warm moist jungle air on my face and hope for the best. Perhaps this isn’t as scary as I thought it would be. They do this all the time, so they clearly must have participants far more anxious about this than I am.

It’s ironic that it isn’t the height or the fall that scares me. It’s what lies below when I land that makes me fearful. Then again, I’ve never liked swimming in lakes or oceans because I can’t see what’s underneath. I want to know what I’m standing in and what precautions I need to take.

Once I have that solved, I relax and enjoy the moment for the breathtaking escape that it provides from the mundane reality of writing for clients who don’t even know what they are doing. From their lack of awareness used as a weapon to try to blame me for their inaction or lack of knowledge, providing information does not always seem to help them. Those who want to learn, will always learn. Unfortunately, many would rather jump in the jungle for a risk than learn what it takes to run their organization effectively. They think it is all about bluster and dominance.

I can’t imagine flying in this jungle thinking of myself as dominant. I’m pretty sure the jaguars would laugh at the thought.