I was flipping through the blog of one of my commenters just now and found this post, along with a photo of her parachuting. (http://watchthethinker.blogspot.com/)
"I want that feeling all the time - in everything I do. That is life and that is living. Being present, dancing on the razor's edge, unafraid, confident...fully trusting. Giving in to the unknowing and soaring without fear, adding a touch of humor, (a stylish jumpsuit, of course) and a feeling of complete certainty in every present moment - that is indeed LIVING. Having a funny, trusting sidekick ready to deploy a parachute and guide you in your landing doesn't hurt either!"
It's odd how perfectly this describes my goal. In fact, I was just talking to my cousin about it. As open as I am emotionally, I'm a chickenshixxx when it comes to traveling too far from my home. Go to the local library, read about the world, get the life history of the librarian and then blog to millions of strangers about it? That's me. But take a one hour trip to Disneyland and have to force myself to relax my rushing thoughts? That's me, too. ("No, the Matterhorn won't break down mid-turn, catapulting me onto the furry Yeti and forcing my son to be the only child in the history of time made into an orphan at the happiest place on earth.")
I want to go last minute to San Diego to enjoy Old Town, the Gas Lamp District and walks along the warm sands of La Jolla, stopping for coffee in the Living Room near the caves. I am proud of myself that I'm too spirited to allow nerves to stop me, but worrying about having a panic attack on the 5 while fretting over illegal alien children who might be stuck in a pipe along the ocean? That gets tiring.
Though probably not as tiring as this post is. Or my husband, who went to bed at 10pm while I'm about to drink coffee, avoid exercise and list a few 4 buck items on Ebay which will only make me more tired, frustrated and anxious in the future.
Oh, it's fun to be me.