Oh Jacinta, what a skyward ache this piece left me with. I read it with my soles tingling, as though they too stood on that sun-warmed rock, hovering between ascent & surrender.
How strange & right that falling should require more faith than flight. Gravity isn’t our foe—it’s our most honest companion. She asks not for wings, but for nerve.
It’s why I think I am so beguiled by birds, & often spend time studying them, along with documenting them also, I think. Because they can just take off—away. The flight is strong in me, always has been. But I’m also learning not to flee at the first sight of clay feet. I’m learning to stay, to let curiosity whisper the why first. And so I linger—velvet-pawed & breath-held—just a little longer, earthbound.
Thank you for this beautiful essay. Courage isn’t only in the leap. It’s in the standing there, knees trembling, & choosing to let go. Or to stay. Or to climb again tomorrow.
This response thing is funky. I have responded many times how your responses are like reverse engineering. So much more beautiful than the piece they are responding to. Its almost as if I should write, only so we can read your words x
I too have witnessed that decisive jump... and would like to respectfully add another dimension to Jecinta's narrative.
People of all ages in a quest to discover their abilities and limitations.
Onlookers cheering, encouraging and with compassion awaiting the point of no return - a common archetypal bond.
Some years ago a young man from our group also decided to test his limits.
He carefully climbed up the steep cliff to reach a high point - not the highest, yet quite high.
He stood with his back against the cliff rocks trying to gather the strength to take the leap.
Others were jumping from various vantage points around him.
Time stood still as logic and self preservation took hold.
After about 15 minutes the surrounding crowd noticed his dilemma... Some in ernest suggested he climbs back down and some encouraged him to just jump...
No dismissive nor demeaning statement was heard.
After about 25 minutes and just before it appeared that the decision was made to return to safety, he suddenly turned towards the void and jumped.
To this young man I dedicate Kavafi's poem which i would like to share - Che face... I'll gran refiuto.
"To some of us, the moment comes
when the decisive Yes or No must be stated.
It is immediately obvious who is ready to state the Yes,
and by saying so, forward progresses in honor and his belief.
The one that refuses has no regret.
If asked again, No would be his answer.
Yet that No — true as it is — weighs on him for the rest of his life."
Cavafy's poem is breathtaking; it is your story's heartbeat. I can't help but think that a pivot to a 'No' response is to court a forever angst about closing the door on a life-changing possibility. Sincere thanks for sharing this.
So beautiful to read this from you, someone who has witnessed the falls a million times more than me. Thank you for bringing kavafi into this reflection, such a truth for all our decisions … ❤️❤️❤️
Jacinta - you've just read a superlative response. So well written. Kim. Warning: It's all downhill from here... Dear JP, evidence that we occupy two very different worlds, literally and metaphorically has hit me like a ton of gravity-driven boulders. The Icarus dream of which you speak and dream often is called 'deja-flew'. I have one recurring 'deja-vu' nightmare and it is a Larson card of two pilots in a cockpit taking it in turns to flick a switch labelled "Wings On / Wings Off". Consequently, I've no yearning for lift - off. I'm happily sans wings. Firmly terrafirma. And you - Extraterrestrial! I see that you concede that with flying comes the inevitability of f-a-l-l-i-n-g. Deliberately defying gravity; surrendering into a watery abyss. The questions you ask are existential: 'What do we gain from leaping and then surrendering to it? What do we lose if we don't learn to fall...?' You have learnt to fall it seems - coached by a Greek Adonis whose DNA is hard-wired to fall hard. Not to be the thief of joy, Elphaba, but I deliberately don't own a Frequent Flyers Card and I'm toying with not having this year's flu shot. Earlier this year, a memorable medical scan confirmed that my skeleton, which is disappointingly more honeycomb than bone issued me a medical mantra: 'Do Not Fall'. No climbing, no bravery, no defying gravity. And hold on. Lots of holding on.
You are the most astute. The honeycomb of our hearts. Can I yet again employ you to get yerself a substack and ride that pony? So that I can spend my hours reading your words and crafting my reflection. Fall. Or jump. Your choice xx ❤️❤️❤️
Oh Jacinta, what a skyward ache this piece left me with. I read it with my soles tingling, as though they too stood on that sun-warmed rock, hovering between ascent & surrender.
How strange & right that falling should require more faith than flight. Gravity isn’t our foe—it’s our most honest companion. She asks not for wings, but for nerve.
It’s why I think I am so beguiled by birds, & often spend time studying them, along with documenting them also, I think. Because they can just take off—away. The flight is strong in me, always has been. But I’m also learning not to flee at the first sight of clay feet. I’m learning to stay, to let curiosity whisper the why first. And so I linger—velvet-pawed & breath-held—just a little longer, earthbound.
Thank you for this beautiful essay. Courage isn’t only in the leap. It’s in the standing there, knees trembling, & choosing to let go. Or to stay. Or to climb again tomorrow.
This response thing is funky. I have responded many times how your responses are like reverse engineering. So much more beautiful than the piece they are responding to. Its almost as if I should write, only so we can read your words x
I too have witnessed that decisive jump... and would like to respectfully add another dimension to Jecinta's narrative.
People of all ages in a quest to discover their abilities and limitations.
Onlookers cheering, encouraging and with compassion awaiting the point of no return - a common archetypal bond.
Some years ago a young man from our group also decided to test his limits.
He carefully climbed up the steep cliff to reach a high point - not the highest, yet quite high.
He stood with his back against the cliff rocks trying to gather the strength to take the leap.
Others were jumping from various vantage points around him.
Time stood still as logic and self preservation took hold.
After about 15 minutes the surrounding crowd noticed his dilemma... Some in ernest suggested he climbs back down and some encouraged him to just jump...
No dismissive nor demeaning statement was heard.
After about 25 minutes and just before it appeared that the decision was made to return to safety, he suddenly turned towards the void and jumped.
To this young man I dedicate Kavafi's poem which i would like to share - Che face... I'll gran refiuto.
"To some of us, the moment comes
when the decisive Yes or No must be stated.
It is immediately obvious who is ready to state the Yes,
and by saying so, forward progresses in honor and his belief.
The one that refuses has no regret.
If asked again, No would be his answer.
Yet that No — true as it is — weighs on him for the rest of his life."
Cavafy's poem is breathtaking; it is your story's heartbeat. I can't help but think that a pivot to a 'No' response is to court a forever angst about closing the door on a life-changing possibility. Sincere thanks for sharing this.
I love you x
So beautiful to read this from you, someone who has witnessed the falls a million times more than me. Thank you for bringing kavafi into this reflection, such a truth for all our decisions … ❤️❤️❤️
Jacinta - you've just read a superlative response. So well written. Kim. Warning: It's all downhill from here... Dear JP, evidence that we occupy two very different worlds, literally and metaphorically has hit me like a ton of gravity-driven boulders. The Icarus dream of which you speak and dream often is called 'deja-flew'. I have one recurring 'deja-vu' nightmare and it is a Larson card of two pilots in a cockpit taking it in turns to flick a switch labelled "Wings On / Wings Off". Consequently, I've no yearning for lift - off. I'm happily sans wings. Firmly terrafirma. And you - Extraterrestrial! I see that you concede that with flying comes the inevitability of f-a-l-l-i-n-g. Deliberately defying gravity; surrendering into a watery abyss. The questions you ask are existential: 'What do we gain from leaping and then surrendering to it? What do we lose if we don't learn to fall...?' You have learnt to fall it seems - coached by a Greek Adonis whose DNA is hard-wired to fall hard. Not to be the thief of joy, Elphaba, but I deliberately don't own a Frequent Flyers Card and I'm toying with not having this year's flu shot. Earlier this year, a memorable medical scan confirmed that my skeleton, which is disappointingly more honeycomb than bone issued me a medical mantra: 'Do Not Fall'. No climbing, no bravery, no defying gravity. And hold on. Lots of holding on.
You are the most astute. The honeycomb of our hearts. Can I yet again employ you to get yerself a substack and ride that pony? So that I can spend my hours reading your words and crafting my reflection. Fall. Or jump. Your choice xx ❤️❤️❤️