Solo Travel, the Lines

I went zip lining because the very idea terrifies me.  Flying across valleys, rivers, jungles and whatever suspended only by a harness and a cable? Sure.  Sign me up.  I fear heights and I don't like roller coasters, but the whole point of this trip is to do things that terrify me.

I went alone, and as the tour group assembled, I remained the only solo traveler among two happy young couples and a family of five.  I felt calm and happy as I got hooked into my harness.  I felt a wave of nostalgic zen as we piled into the open bed of a pickup truck for the drive to the lines. I was fine until we got to the first line and one of our guides went over how to sit in the harness, slow down and keep straight.  I barely heard him over the blood rushing in my ears.  My knees and hands shook from adrenaline.  I couldn't breathe, and when it was my turn, I could barely walk to the line to get hooked in.  I dropped off the side of the mountain, sliding over the cable with my eyes shut tight, screaming like a little girl in a haunted house.  The first line was a long ride.  I couldn't see the end from the start.  

After the first line, it got easier.  Over the course of ten or so lines, I trusted.  I trusted the harness.  I trusted the lines.  I trusted the goofy, flirty Costa Rican boys who were there to protect us.  I trusted myself to make it across.  

And isn't that the theme of this first year or so?  I can't see the end from the beginning, but it only works if I leap and trust myself to make it across.  All is well.  All will be well.  I hope I can continue to believe this when I get dropped back into my "real" life again.  I hope I will continue to go over the canopy into the wild.