Fear of falling

“You know, some people fall right through the hole in their lives. It's invisible, but they come to it after time, never knowing where.” ~ Louise Erdrich
(New to me ... Writer and Poet, b.1954)

Falling.
We grew up watching Willy Coyote fall ... he would suddenly be suspended in mid air, and he would look helplessly through the cathode ray tube right at me ... sitting cross legged on the floor, I couldn't help him. I never thought it was a funny cartoon.
My older brother and I were somewhere we shouldn't have been ... way up high ... scooting along an outside edge of an abandoned concrete building. A pin feather lodged in the sole of my little saddle oxford and Momma wanted to know how it got there. I am not a skilled liar ... I probably would have tried my best to deceive, had I known the trouble the truth would purchase ... but in my innocence I told her the truth ... I must have gotten it when I accidentally stepped on an empty bird nest tucked in to corner where a column met a window ledge ... several stories up in what seemed like thin air. She probably spanked me, what I remember though was her saying "You could have slipped and fallen. That would have killed you." I was too young to know what those words meant. Falling from great heights was nothing more then a set back to the coyote. Momma was the original drama queen. I figured that out years before I heard that label. I can sit right here right now and remember my confusion that day ... killed you ... What could those words mean? "Dead" she said, "like that animal hanging on the fence. Never ever ever able to run with her brother again!" ...
(Yeah, that's a different story ... I don't know why this was done, but it is a true story. A coyote was positioned on a bar wire fence ... It was the first "dead" thing I had ever seen and my daddy said that animal was there because he wasn't playing nice with a rancher's cattle ... little wide eyed me thought that was the wild version of standing with ones nose in the corner ... something I did quite a lot of.)
... "Dead like goes to sleep and never ever ever wakes up!"
Oh. Two new words ... one new idea ... I think the sleeplessness and nightmares probably started right around that time. And when I did sleep, seemed like I frequently fell out of my top bunk bed. How did I survive my childhood? I'm trying to remember what I was afraid of, and all I can think of was I was very afraid of falling ... my body was afraid ... my gut leaked that visceral fear every time I even thought about falling, falling from a height. That childhood fear still sneaks up on me and catches my breath sometimes ... those times when falling seems inevitable. I probably need to take my body skydiving.

This year I fell through a hole in my life. Remember those black circles ... drawn by Disney animators, a character could pick them up by the edge and move them around. Remember? I knew there was a hole in my life right there, but I sure didn't believe it was possible for me to fall through it. I've already written about it, but, I'm thinking about it again because it turned out to be the very place where my soul felt God. I had been straining to find some solutions to my little faulty trust switch, not a unique problem, but I felt certain that it was impeding the quality of my journey. People who can't trust are very careful about touching and being touch ... interpersonally. People who don't trust do build walls around themselves. I probably am still working on it, but ... seems like I had a lot of whoever I am supposed to be "protected". I chose to trust a person, low risk, someone who was passing through my life, like most people do. And that went well, until it didn't. During the last few minutes of the "friendship" some ugly words were said. Mauling words ... Friendship killing words. And ... That part of me that looks out for myself tossed her hair back and said "don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out buddy". I realized pretty soon afterwards that me looking out for me was ... not just stupid, but also excruciatingly counterproductive. Sitting very still with that mess I felt for the first time ever that I ... me ... tiny insignificant me ... my sin made God feel sad. God feels bad when we sin. Even little easily justified sins make God feel bad. I don't want to do that. I realized that while maybe I am just getting started with the work of trusting, that my buddy may be getting near to the end of his willingness to work on the very same problem ... repetive little burns will eventually burn one completely down. I should have been someone who could be trusted not to torch a bud. Hmmm ... I can see how it happened. Someone recently introduced me to the idea of seeing everyone I met as one of God's particular favorites. It's a lovely idea ... I think it's true that each of us is uniquely valued by God. No matter how I want to justify my actions as I looked out for me, the truth is I messed up where God was working ... I ran through and "messed"on His work of art ... I maliciously fired a flaming arrow right into a person's soft spot. Because of that mess which I participated in I decided to start trying to let God "look out for me".
It has gone well, though it is difficult. Even knowing that I don't really know how to "do" life all by myself ... it's still difficult to reach for an invisible hand, it's difficult to leave my hand tucked in safe there. Want to know what happened after I fell through the hole in my life?
I fell like a feather floating gently back and forth. I've already written about it. I fell through the hole in my life. I thought I could keep myself safe by just keeping a distance from that scary black circle, I thought I could pretend it wasn't there ... ignore it, put a patch over it, fill it with unimportant things maybe ... but the hole moved ... suddenly, and I fell through. That was this year. The best year ever. I may not be afraid of holes ... Not sure about that, but I am certain that I'm not afraid of falling. Falling took me away from the place where tending that hole kept me busy. Falling through took me to a place where that hole can't haunt me. Trust feathered the fall.