The first time I leapt from a tall tree I was in Mexico, somewhere in the hills outside of Monterrey. After climbing a 30-foot ladder and stepping out onto a tiny metal platform, with all the proper safety equipment and ropes and professional guides, I turned quickly and jumped into thin air, trusting the ropes to catch me.
The ropes did catch me, with some help from our expert guides, and lowered me slowly to the ground where I was greeted by my cheering colleagues.
I couldn't believe what I had just done. Jumped out of a tree from 30 plus feet above the ground! Me, with my healthy fear of heights, cultivated over a lifetime of avoiding situations that would require getting too close to the edge of a cliff or a balcony. Me, who always strives to stay grounded, feet firmly planted on solid earth.
Since that first leap I've gone back up into the trees, ridden zip lines, crossed rickety rope bridges ("don't look down, Shrek!), and done plenty of indoor rock-climbing. I'm no longer a person who's afraid of heights, and I really love that feeling of stepping off a platform or pushing away from the rock wall and trusting the ropes to catch me.
I can't help wondering if I would have ever taken that first bold step, to leap from the platform, if I wasn't already pretty far outside of my comfort zone---in a different country, away from my close friends and family and all the familiar cultural cues and constraints.
Somehow, I think not.
There was something about being outside of my own culture that made it seem OK to do something, maybe even be someone for a moment, that I wouldn't do or be at home. I'm grateful for that, and wondering where and when the next opportunity to leap outside my comfort zone will present itself.
Ready or not...