somewhere out in the hills near Córdoba...
Yesterday I jumped off a cliff.
What?
Of course I should probably mention that I was attached to a huge parachute
and a scruffy 30-something Argentinian guy who's been parasailing off cliffs for 14 years.
It was surprisingly peaceful--
the sky was that gorgeous blue of a clear sky day
we rode jets of wind that brought us up, up, UP
and lulls in the air that let gravity tug us slowly downward.
We floated on the same piece of sky as the condors
and the hawks, resting there in that clear space high above the earth
dipping toward mountains, streams, bushes & dirt until--
up UP we were carried away by a swirling column of wind.
I would do it again, I would forget myself up there,
I would leave my ego and annoyances and lonelinesses up there
little black clouds with fluffy scowls
and I hope that if I did it again that I would continue to not land
in a cow patty in the field where we touch down, running.