falling on the wind

“Anyone whose goal is 'something higher' must expect someday to suffer vertigo. What is vertigo? Fear of falling? No, Vertigo is something other than fear of falling. It is the voice of the emptiness below us which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves.”
- Milan Kundera

Recently, I am plagued by memories of my childhood. In some bizarre dream sequence like a ‘50s home movie, I can see the frames rushing past the silver screen in my mind. I see myself running on open, evergreen lawns, climbing trees higher than my house, eating ice-cream and cookies until it hurts, sitting on my father’s lap, lying in my mother’s arms, going to school and learning something new each day, making new friends, fishing, riding a bike for the first time and seeing the world through rose-coloured glasses.

It’s all gone now.
That life, that time, that energy, that freedom.
Yes, it is an essential part of growing up that one sheds one’s childish ways and that one learns to embrace the new exciting world of adulthood, with all the pleasures and pains it brings.
But somehow, I feel like a parachute jumper, I have jumped into the abyss, and though I know there is now way I can go back into the plane, I still am not sure where I am going to land.

Below me I see a vast landscape, a myriad of different landscapes, plains, destinations and as I am slowly sinking and leisurely drifting on the wind, the idea of which wind current to catch seems a far-fetched idealistic dream. “As if we can just jump onto a current and go with it?!”
And we keep falling, and immersing ourselves in the ocean of choices below us. Which surface will be the softest to land on, which will be the most adventurous? Where can I land where resources are abundant or where is the most open plain where dangers are least likely to lurk?

And even with this smorgasbord of different options, always in the periphery remains the dark, blind spot. Always lurking and looming to be explored, always there, like an ominous reminder of the fate of the undecided. No-one really knows what lies in the dark place. They say it’s experienced differently by each individual.

And, God knows, sometimes, I want to steer directly into it.

Not because I don’t value my life or the things I have worked hard for. Not because I have an inherent need to end it all and sink into the abyss. Not because I have a darkened, damaged soul that needs to hurt itself because it knows nothing else.
Well, at least, I don’t think so.

But there is something to be said for the unknown pit of darkness.
In the dark, you can get away with things.
No one cares when you just sit around and accomplish nothing , no one judges who you like, what you say, what you read, who you follow, what you sound like, what you wear, who you kiss, who you sleep with, what you write, what you eat and what you look like.
It’s less risky, I suppose.

Because, God knows, once you land in the light, you are open. You are a moving target, a bulls-eye to the rest of the light-walkers, another predator stealing food from the rest of the herd.
You are open to be nit-picked, to be torn apart, to be flayed and whipped for who you are and what you want. The light is a merciless place, a hostile place where the rewards could be endless. The sun, the air and the hope that perhaps someday you won’t be the prey anymore, these are the things we hope for.

And still, the abyss calls.
And still the parachute falls, drifting slowly on the wind.

Maybe it’s worse, seeing the world from above like this, having the choice to choose where one will land. Because somehow, somewhere, in any and every decision that you make, there will be an ounce of regret, or remorse, for the decision made.
So why make a choice at all?
Why not let the current decide for us? That absolves us from any responsibility, any consequence, any regret.

Perhaps, it’s best to close our eyes and just fall.
And as the wind is blowing on our faces, and our hair spiralling across our faces, we can be reminded of a time when all was good and pure in the world, when ice-cream and fishing were immense pleasures and a stubbed toe, the greatest pain.

No matter where we land; darkness or light. Nothing will come close to the plane.
So does it really matter where we land when our best days are behind us?