jonasgoat

Geronimooooh!:

In Kiwi, travelling on April 19, 2010 at 10:49 pm

So I jumped into nothingness and survived. Obviously I was attached to a long elastic rope and there was a lot of safety involved. But I’ve got to admit, I was scared. Not so much of the jump itself, which was just a run and a leap out, with a yell echoing from my mouth, and long seconds, which became short seconds of freefall, the ground coming to meet me, the sky tilting crazily away. The wind making my eyes tear up. Then a violent jerk, and I don’t know how this happened I’m turning arse over head, even though they’ve strapped the rope to my waist.

No what frightens me is the wait as I bounce up and down on the end of the cord. The wait for the other rope with the hoop on it, which I’m supposed to attach myself to and then be winched to safety. That wait right……..

……there, suspended over Queenstown, peering out into the distance at the town below me and the mountains just over there, and the lake deep and blue, as the sun glints off it. Are lakes ever not beautiful? Its that wait, the seconds turning into minutes and I’m clutching the rope for dear life, clutching it until my hands start to cramp, and I’m nervously, managing not to attach myself to the rope which will winch me to safety. Until I do, and then I take a deep breath.

A long breath and as I’m winched up, realise that the bungee didn’t change me, there is no massive realignment of my inner self, no sudden shift of the personality that has accumulated itself over time around me. And I’m saddened for a moment. Saddened that change isn’t an external force that can remake you, that jumping off The Ledge bungee doesn’t make me a wholly new person. Life isn’t that easy.

Time to start tweaking me, one experience at a time then.

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