Elk River Falls

There’s a falls right outside of Banner Elk and it was one summer, sunny afternoon up in Boone and a couple of us decided to head out to the falls to jump off into the water below. I had no real idea what it was going to look like, or that my friends would freely jump into the water over and over again while I stood at the top, feeling I needed to prove that girls can do it too, my shorts shaking over my bare legs. I’d heard that people have died or been paralyzed by the fall. Something about rocks and cars being at the bottom.

There’s something in the idea of jumping out into nothing for no real good reason. Even when there are talks of how bad things are or how much money there isn’t or what needs to be cut where. And frankly, I’m sick of hearing about it. Now’s the time to be creative. To innovate. To jump.

At least, that’s what I try to tell myself. I keep picturing this sunny, lazy summer here in Asheville, working at some coffee shop or teaching yoga here and there. And it all seems to make sense. Because sometimes you just push and push and push until there isn’t anything to push up against. Until it all dissolves.

And as much as I love Obama and the idea of things getting better, there’s always something to learn from a “severe” recession. Because really, it’s a recess from money. Because really, security is an illusion. So says the girl who is searching for something to bridge the gap between jobs. Who is a constant in ideas of what could happen…because right now is the perfect time to be thinking of the next great idea.

My coworkers got me a book on writing and yoga and I’m teaching a workshop for yoga and intention during one of our career exploration programs. It’s all about setting an intention for your life and goals and acceptance of what is. Because I feel like I’m really struggling with accepting things the way they are right now. I think we all are.

It got to the point where the crowd (yes, there was a crowd of people hanging out and watching us) was counting down for me to jump into the falls below. And I stood, one foot back ready to launch myself into the falls below, the cheers and claps of the crowd muffled by the water. And then I would have done something that cool summer afternoon.

After I didn’t jump, after hours of waiting for a real reason to jump, one of the women from below came up the rocks to tell me: you’ll do it by the end of summer. I just know it. It’ll happen. It didn’t.