I Believe in Falling Off a Cliff Backwards

Some years ago, my younger brother skied… off a cliff… backwards. My father and I stood at first in astonishment, and then we burst into laughter. Like any half decent older sister, I pulled out my phone to film the whole ordeal as quickly as my mittens would allow for me to do so. He had not intended to go off the cliff backwards, of course. He had come to a neat hockey stop just before the edge of the cliff, but then he somehow continued to drift backwards. Sometime later as I thought back on the perilous moment, there was something that was dashing about it. He had verve. He had not meant to discover the shorter route down the mountain, but he did so with panache. I started to think, maybe there’s something to this: why not live with boldness? As Friedrich Dergroße said, “boldness, boldness, always boldness.”

In my early life prior to bearing witness to the cliff incident, I had had latent tendencies towards bold action. When I was two, I bit the dentist. A classic move on my part. Though the details are hazy, I am sure no good came of it other than immense momentary satisfaction. I was immediately ushered out of the office in ignominy. I was not welcome back. Though one could perceive this as an act of childhood rebellion, it was not so. I fought tooth and nail, as I brought my teeth down on his nails, against this violation, against this bully who stuck his hand in my mouth. Biting is by no means classy, but it is courageous. The cliff was a hand, and the fall was a bite. In an attempt at self-preservation, I acted with boldness.

After witnessing the skiing feat, I took my newfound credo to heart. I decided to act with greater conviction and fearlessness. In middle school, I decided to wear hoop earrings – and run for president of the almighty student council. As I waited to deliver my speech of candidacy, I twisted my hoop earrings nervously. When I thought my knees and my voice would fail me, my memory flitted back to the moment my brother’s skies left the ground on his way off the precipice. I mustered what was left of my panache, and made my way to the microphone stand. “It’s a piece of cake,” I told myself. Hamilton’s foe had been gravity. My only challenge was trying not to foil my undies in front of a bunch of twelve year olds. “Boldness,” I repeated to myself. My boldness served. I was elected. I leapt from a cliff.

I never lost sight of my guiding principle as I made my way to high school. The mantra played itself in my head and in my heart. However, not every act of bravery was a noble one, or made my mother particularly proud. On one occasion, I attended a Halloween party as Captain Underpants, and wore only tighty whities on my lower half. I still look back upon that night with fondness and pride because my tighty whities were a manifestation of courage. Though I may regret an act of boldness from time to time, I never fail to appreciate the sentiment of courage. For the most part, however, boldness is immensely rewarding. The summer of my sophomore year in high school, I did a program abroad in England, alone. I was terrified, but courage cannot live without fear, just as a remedy cannot exist without an illness. On the days I made long lasting memories with new friends, I was proud of myself. On the days I felt lonely, I was also proud of myself. I entered the United Kingdom as a scared and brave teenage girl. I left it still brave, but with an addiction to biscuits. Once again, I leapt.

Some acts of boldness are not as sudden as a fall from a cliff. Some take minutes, while others may take years or a lifetime. I come from a blended family. One half sibling is over a decade my senior while the other nears closer to half a decade. As a little girl, they were not my friends, nor did they particularly care for me. As I grew up and they did as well, I found the courage within me to start to salvage our broken relationships. Years have passed and this effort to mend has continued. Some days, it feels useless, but others, I believe that one day we will be friends. In this scenario, it was not so much of a cliff as it was a bunny slope, but I still leapt.

Sometimes, when I am lazily dreaming about the future and what it may hold, and I start to ponder about college applications, advanced degrees, babies, and holy matrimony, I just think to myself, “ski backwards off a cliff.” I believe everyone needs to try falling off a cliff backwards at least once in their lifetime.

PS: Don't worry, my brother was just fine!

A photo I captured of moment pre-fall