THE ROPE

I imagine hanging by a rope off the edge of a cliff and deciding to release my tightened grip. There’s the possibility of a freefall, but what if instead I am dangling only 10 feet from the sturdy ground that lies directly below?

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I am awakened by this rare combination of favorite things that bring about a long overdue childlike glee—Sun. And snow.

Even before breakfast I am loaded in the frozen jeep, heater blasting and this shiver in me that won’t let go. In my family, discovering the secret places along the unplanned drive is an artform. If I am anything, I am an artist of the open road.

It’s twenty-seven degrees on the dirt path that leads to the place along the lake’s edge where the largest and most beautiful of seven Danes used to run to with abandon. But I am alone today…without the insistent pull of my eager company, without his breathtaking, distracting gaze.

I notice, for the first time, something dangling along the shoreline that taunts so many buried memories to come out to play. This frayed and knotted rope, tied to a towering pine at least twenty feet from shoreline, hangs over what was once water now receded, at present, a beach of pebbles instead. This rope. Made more mysterious, more interesting, with its evidence of use and decay.  

The memories come flooding in—

of tire swings over dried prairie,

of swing-outs over shallow creeks and too-wide ravines,

of squeals of delight disguised as terror,

of pure exhilaration all the same.

It is said that FDR implored an entire nation—When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.

But I believe this rope dangling before me is symbolic not of the struggle to cling to something, but of the art of letting go.

“What are you holding on to?” the rope whispers.  There never seems to be a quiet moment, even when I’m alone.

The rope is singular in its purpose, linear in form. It offers up two seemingly obvious solutions—either to climb up or to fall straight and precisely down. But what of side to side? Under or around? Ours is the tendency to believe the only way out of our given situation is right back up.  

This rope. In estimation it dangles only 10’ from what’s waiting just below.

More prevailing than we are accustomed to believing, the bottom is nearly always closer than we know.

The lie we tell ourselves amid the dramas of our everydays, is that we hang on the edge of some overwhelming precipice. The other side of that conclusion is we are closer than we imagine to where we need to go.

Where. We. Need. To. Go.

Releasing frees and redirects us. So much energy is wasted in the longing to hold onto something tattered and worn.

Of all the breathtaker lessons inherent in the journey of my unexpected disease, the one most insidious, most telling, is that cancer learns. If given the same treatment over and over, it will eventually find a way.

What seeming innocuous habits do you cling to that are in actuality the seedlings of dangerous mistakes?

This rope we cling to is the opposite of a life-giving faith.

Have we misunderstood and underestimated the unscripted minutes of our days?

Imbedded in those abridged pages of our anxious hours are the lessons often too painful to re-read.

But what would happen if our apprehension was redefined as the exhilaration necessary to amplify a new vision and quicken our steps?

My Creator is the author of surprises. He lingers in the places I most fear and He waits. And waits. He is in this vast territory of “least visited”— In the places unfamiliar and unknown. His arms are outstretched, “Let me catch you.” His fingertips closer than I can comprehend.

Dangling over a pebbled beach. I picture those who once swung out and over crystal water. Do not dismiss this as simply play. The rope is a grand adventure of squeals and dares, of holding breath and twine.

The most extraordinary days are the ones that take us to new places, the ones that script a story we could not imagine for ourselves, if we only let go.  

 NOTES:

 Our brain expands in the challenging seasons. When we lean into what is unfamiliar. When we dare to take on the very things we fear or dread. This is where “life abundantly” dwells. It is not some inert promise that requires nothing of our investment. What we desire, requires all of who we are, especially and particularly the giving up of clinging to the familiar.

To save my life, I must chronically re-examine, re-adjust. Life is so much like cancer— It recalculates its strategy based on our habits, even when our intentions are good.

Read that again. Even when our intentions are good. Imbedded in every experience is one simple yet profound truth: There is a vast and endless territory waiting for us to explore. Sometimes that territory feels lonely, even foreign.  But oh how wrong we would be in telling ourselves “it’s not for us.”

What are the things you cling to that are keeping you from expanding your domain?

List them. Then, starting today, release.