Getting “On Rope”

In my dreams my mind issued a challenge to my heart, and I awoke to a realization.

In the experience of reality, I wonder what is actually real. Are the thoughts dripping in my head real? Is the doubt that often invades my certainty an instinct or simply a voice from the past? Is what I feel in my gut or in my head? How can a mere man tell the difference?

I often search for things to confirm my security or my doubts. Despite my fear of heights,I was once high-angle rescue technician. That fear, coupled with the dislike of pain and injury, caused me to check things repeatedly before getting “on rope” and trusting my life to it. I would look for issues with the rope, for problems with my harness, for abnormalities in the gear and the correctness of the knots.  I made sure the team was trained and able. More importantly, I was also confirming the integrity of those things before giving them my trust. When I knew things were right, I would breath out my fear, hop over the edge, and head downward. Nothing exhilarated me more than facing my fear and defeating it on its own turf.

Perhaps that is a wonderful metaphor for my life when facing the various fears I’ve accumulated over the years. I have, as I am sure many have, been in some extremely dark and cold places. Oddly, when I would survive one dark corner of my world another would eventually come that changed my understanding of what darkness really was. I’ve also learned that my perspective, like my eyes, don’t actually adapt to the level of darkness in a space. They adapt to how much light is present. I’ve learned to seek out the light.

I still do not like pain and injury, although I’ve developed a high tolerance for both. So, I’ve learned to check, and recheck, things in my life to best ensure my survival. I check the integrity of the proverbial rope. I inspect my “gear” to ensure its strength. I ensure those who will be on my team are equal to the task at hand. Then I go on rope, and begin my journey into fear prepared. I may still fall, and I may still get hurt, but it won’t be because I ignored the things within my power to address. I knew I could only control so much, meaning my own actions and my own mind, but that I also had no control over so much my life and well-being depended on.

In the fire service, we learn techniques to give us the best chance to survive. We “sound” floors before entering a room. We check the roof before getting on it. We size up a scene before working a fire. Mostly, we rely heavily on our own experience and training to get out of many precarious scenarios alive. My experience (and the loss of some friends) taught me to instinctively check things. Constantly. Without fail.

So, I awaken to the drip…drip…drip of a nagging thought pressing on my heart. I start checking the proverbial rope, the lifeline I’ve tied to the anchor of my life, running my bare hand along its braided sheath looking for distortions. I check the knots I’ve used to bind me to the steadfastness I seek, looking for loose ties and uncertain bindings. I go within to ensure I’m thinking clearly, and that I’m certain of my plan. Then, I step off, trusting my instincts and hoping those I’ve placed my trust in won’t let me down.

I’ve gone on rope.