In folklore it is that crossroads are the place to be to be meeting all manner of creatures, such as doppelgangers, faeries, demons and even the devil himself. Recently, I myself had an interesting encounter at a crossroads that I'd like to share about. It is a little story about courage and choices.
Tricked
Our family holiday was the the Ardèche in France. My stepdaughter had been to that area quite often with her father, so she knew the area pretty well. One of the highlights there is the Pont du Diable (the devil's bridge), which is a bridge that spans over a gorge. The water below is deep enough to jump off this 15 meter high structure. My stepdaughter had done this a couple of times in the past, and I felt I couldn't lag behind.
As we went to the damn bridge, I felt tension rising within me. I acknowledged I didn't have to jump, so maybe I just wouldn't? But then again, I also knew I would feel bad about myself if I wouldn't. And probably my stepdaughter would think me a coward, I thought... My initial plan was not to overthink anything and just blindly leap over the ledge right away. But that plan struck dead as soon as my body saw itself confronted with the sheer drop. Fifteen meter is quite the distance, I can tell you now.
So I spent a lot of time pondering if and how I should jump, one foot on the ledge. I made a few attempts, but couldn't push myself quite yet over the edge. My whole body refused, froze, instinctively fearing death.
At some point a number of guys arrived at the top and addressed me in heavily accented English. I asked one of them if he had jumped before. He made a terrified expression and said one meter scared him already. But then he agreed that if I would jump, so would he. This made me a bit more confident, because he made me feel as if I was helping him.
They helped me stand on the parapet and counted down. My fear of looking stupid overcame my fear of heights and I jumped. And I roared. And after no more than 2 seconds, my toes smoothly broke the surface.
Then the guy who had helped me, positioned himself on the ledge. He screamed: "I AM SCARÈD!" and then he jumped down, expertly throwing his body in a backflip.
This Trickster had me good. And I thanked him for it.
Crossroads
I had done it. I had braved the bridge, so all was good now, right? I still felt bad. I had now pushed myself to do something I didn't want to, only for others. I had feared my stepdaughter's judgement and I had feared looking stupid to the counting locals. So how brave had I been, really?
The next morning, I went running. I ran up stairs that were hewn out of a rock and followed the trail they were part of. They led me onto crossroads. To the right was a trail that would go over the hill, which had a challenging distance. But to the left the sign said Pont du Diable. I paused, deliberating which path to take.
There on the crossroads between the Devil's bridge and the easy way out, I met the devil: he was my own inner coward.
The previous night, I had been reading in John Lovell's The Warrior Poet Way, about facing the inner coward. Now, I do have some strong opinions about many of the statements in the book, but I felt challenged nonetheless to practice resolve and courage.
I decided on the left path, down to the Pont du Diable. When I reached the bridge, I took of my sandals and climbed the parapet right away. I told my inner coward that I am not to be kept small and I jumped.
I jumped for myself, because I wanted to. I wanted to own this experience for myself. I wanted to conquer my fear and practice bravery. And I did. This time I was proud.
Lessons learned
It's not that jumping off a bridge proves courage per se. Nor do I want to encourage you to look for opportunities to display such feats. For me it was important to acknowledge the intention behind my actions. Why did I do what I did? And also to confront my inner coward. We all have one. It urges us to play safe, stay comfortable and to weasel our way out when things get difficult. It keeps us small.
But at the same time, it is important to care well for ourselves. It's not cowardly to set a clear boundary (I do not want to jump off a bridge) and it is not always good to discipline ourselves from having any form of comfort because we think we need to achieve all sorts of goals.
I suppose the art of living is about balancing. What helps, I think, is to be familiar with both sides of the scales.
Comentarios