i remember learning how to ride a bike
--too scared to lift my feet off the ground, relying on my father
's guiding hand to steady me, then rocking back and forth while in an attempt to stay upright. but failure would come in the form of a fall and i would cry and wish i had never gotten on such a monstrous beast
. he made me go back and try. i would still fall, but things would get progressively better until i could ride the length of the street without toppling once.
i wish life was like riding a bicycle...that once you learned to fall you would be a master of the machine, choosing your ultimate destination.
you fall completely the first time, and no one is around to help you back up. where's that strong hand when you need it most? but you tell yourself, "hey--everyone falls the first time," and soon things begin to seem like that one time was just a mistake, your learning experience.
the second time catches you unaware because of this, and the fall is more violent--you scrape the bruises and the old wounds are re-opened.
every time after that makes you want to quit. but everyone falls, not just the first time, but time and time again. if we all weren't such a miserable lot none of us could survive...
when you have those dreams where you're flying, and you wake up just in time to catch yourself from hitting the ground, do you ever wonder what might've happened if you hadn't made it in time? falling is a wonderful feeling, but the oncoming earth is a frightening thought.