When I wrote the blog about never wanting to be famous a la Brittany Spears, I was under the impression that fame would be this uncontrollable beast that would take my life where I did not want it. There may be people in the limelight who believe that it is so. I was also under the impression that there would be some thing or things that I would want to keep to myself from the world. Certainly when I have kids (God willing), I would want them to be able to make their own choices about being in the spotlight. Mostly what I was afraid of was letting people down.

I have realized something great, however. When I say great, I mean so much bigger than me: Everything that I aspire to do, I aspire to do on a HUGE scale, no matter what it is! By telling myself that I don't want fame, I'm really expressing a fear of the responsibility that I would have to people if I were visible to everyone. That hugely limits everything that I want to do, namely: Shift the paradigm of careering from feasibility to possibility for the world. I need to start with myself. Something amazing has happened for me and I now know that in order to achieve that, I first have to conquer some projects on my list: a book, an online application, a survey project, investing on real estate, and finally - investing in PEOPLE! I want to be success story, an example that people can follow and know that if I can do it, they can do it!

Let me clear the air ahead of time by saying this: I am human; I will make mistakes; I will take responsibility for them; I will prevail in spite of them and in some cases, because of them.

I believe in unique purpose and that there is room in this world for everyone to succeed and prosper. I find that many people resist it, just as I have.

Mohandas (Mahatma) K. Gandhi said, "We must be the change we wish to see in the world."

So, I'm still a rock star! I'm just shooting for being a star the size of W. Cephei rather than limiting myself to the size of our measly (yet GLORIOUS) sun, because that is how I will radiate the hope that I want people to have.

I believe in people. Do you believe in you?

Like a lot of kids, when I was young I wanted to become a rock star. Honestly, I was a pretty awkward kid. I didn't feel comfortable around adults and felt even more uncomfortable around kids my age. Part of my desire had to do with wanting to be adored. Even more than than I wanted to be adored, I wanted to be envied, especially by all of the girls that I envied when I was in Catholic school. They played really mean tricks on me. I probably tried too hard to be their friend. It was pathetic and they took advantage of it by amusing themselves at my expense. I was a really sensitive girl (still am; I'm just a LOT tougher). I didn't defend myself or retaliate because I was taught that good Catholic girls were supposed to be meek and humble. So I privately fantasized about my greatest revenge - becoming a famous rock star.

Kids weren't any nicer when I went to public school in 6th grade; I wasn't any less awkward. In fact, my awkwardness was magnified. When I spent time alone, which was frequently, I imagined that someone would appreciate my quirkiness and vocal talents and I would be officially discovered. They would put me on tour with New Kids On The Block (gimme a break! I was a boy-crazy 11 year-old and all the boys at my school were mean to me) and I would perform in front of tens of thousands of screaming fans. They would squeal with excitement when I extended my hand, "Oh my god! She touched me!"

I know how this might sound. Believe me! But I think about Columbine and the Plymouth Meeting kid who was turned in by his classmate and I think: If I hadn't had those fantasies, I could have been a bona fide tragedy. I was probably never capable of viscously killing anyone or blowing up anything, but I thought a lot about all the sympathy I might finally get if I killed myself. Because I believed that I might really grow up to be something great, I never followed through. I never even got close. I did, however, try to deflect the teasing on to a few other girls. Two of them I will never have the chance to apologize to; they've passed. For the one I can remember very clearly, Kelly, if you ever read this: You, your mom, and your sister were always nice to me and you always included me. I'm sorry for the things that I said behind your back and to your face when you confronted me. I know I'm going all the way back to middle school, but I'm still ashamed at the way I acted. I hope you will forgive me.

In 1992, I was 14 years old and a sophomore in high school. The Pearl Jam video, Jeremy, came out and it really grabbed me, though I was an R&B and rap fan at the time. I could really relate to Jeremy, but thankfully I was becoming more comfortable in my skin and had let go of a lot of the bitterness and self-pity (still hard to shake completely, but I continue to work on it). My grades in high school were MUCH stronger than they had ever been. I had my eye on college and my dreams were changing. As I started to accept myself, some girls got meaner and some got nicer. Either way, I still believed that I would be something great, even if it wasn't a rock star, and while it still hurt to be teased, I did earn some admirers. The good days started to outweigh the bad - THANK GOD!

As I focused more on academics and athletics, becoming a rock star was losing its luster. I didn't feel I needed to be a rock star to prove anything. By the time I was filling out my college applications, I was projecting to be a news anchor like Jessica Savitch, one of the first female news anchors. Then after studying Chomsky in college, I decided that I didn't want media moguls to use me to perpetuate their agenda (fight the power) and pursued radio instead. Funny thing: I wound up in talk radio recording and airing the syndicated Ken Hamblin, G. Gordon Liddy and Rush Limbaugh shows.

I'm not sure if I use to pay less attention or if the media has shifted their focus, but knowing that almost every day on every channel there is a major news story about Brittany Spears makes me happy that I didn't pursue journalism. I don't think I would have wanted to be super serious, but I probably would have had to object to dedicating any part of a newscast to the demise of a pop star for several reasons: 1) It's her private problem, 2) If we didn't feed the fire, she might have a better shot at recovering, 3) There are probably heroes among us, and the time would be better used uncovering these everyday heroes to increase the visibility of positive examples.

Psychologically, we absorb what surrounds us. The more negative life images we take in, the more we internalize negativity – like when I lived in Jersey. I don't necessarily mean big things, though you can't refute their impact. I mean watching people not open doors for other people; being consistently cut off and cursed at; watching a friend steal from another friend. I was also recording and airing the syndicated Ken Hamblin, G. Gordon Liddy and Rush Limbaugh shows at the time. Luckily, there was still Paul Harvey with The Rest of the Story.


There are few heroes these days, simply because our inevitable human errors are highlighted over our good deeds. Though I still believe I am and will become someone great, I'm not sure I'll be a hero. I'm sure it would hurt to fall from those ledges and I don't think I would want to live constantly under scrutiny, always being evaluated by the relentless media. I would like to think of myself as someone who inspires and achieves, and I hope to help other people become heroes. I think I have achieved my definition of success, which used to be that I would be a rock star. I might not be a rock star as defined by MTV, but I am because I can say that I am happy with my life. Not for a second would I want to trade for the life of a rock star (or pop star). I AM A ROCK STAR!

Um, did I blink too long?

What I'm wondering is if all adults as they reach their 30s (I'm almost there, but not quite yet!) start to have this realization that time is not waiting for them. Days pass in seconds compared to the days that would never end when I was young. I remember being so disappointed when Christmas came around and there were those presents on my list that I didn't get. "But your birthday is just two weeks away," my parents would say. TWO WEEKS? Geez. That was like, forever! Now my friends ask me to get together and I'm asking them what February looks like for them. Granted, it will be here in a jiffy and it is partially by choice that my calendar is so full. Still, I long for those days when I had so little to lose, or rather I didn't know what I had to lose. I didn't think being 29 would be this good. I'm glad I didn't screw it up when I thought I had nothing to lose!

I had a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving - my husband, who I learned is yearned by 21-year-olds (can't blame 'em!); my family, whom I have embraced as I've aged as opposed to the embarrassment I felt in my youth; my husbands family, who amaze me with their generosity and, well, there are so many of them!; my friends. I'm so glad that the friends from college have gotten to know the friends from high school and as I've grown the friends from jobs past have met those folks, too. I love surrounding myself with diverse people who are all fantastic in their own unique way; my talents that I get to use to help, inspire, or entertain other people; my pets that keep my blood pressure down and my humor sensors attuned; my clients. I really have learned so much from them and I love that they believe so much in what I've done for them that they tell other people; my health, which used to suffer much more frequently when I was working for someone else. Hmmm; music and nature - I just thank God for them.

My husband and I are no longer considered newlyweds. Our 2nd Anniverary passed on the 14th. This was our most romantic anniversary yet. (I know we've only had 2!)

The weather was perfect at Assateague Island in Maryland and we went camping with Rev Kev, the guy who married us, and his wife, Tim's sister, Jackie. This was the 2nd year in a row that I've gone. Tim could not join me last year because his swimming season starts up in full swing. (He coaches the Upper Merion Marlins.)

Even though this year's trip did not coincide with the peak of a meteor shower like last years, the shooting stars were bountiful! We didn't need as many layers at night as last year, and the erosion wasn't as bad, so we could walk down to the beach. It actually was hot during the day, so we swam. Last year Jackie and Kevin were visited by wild ponies in the wee hours of the morning, but my mother and I missed it. This year, those bold ponies went into our cooler and stole all of our carrots. I heard the cooler open and shut and saw that there was an orange line of light on the horizon. Kevin is a morning person, but this hour would have been ridiculous. Our new tent has great windows, so I could see three horses hanging out by our cooler. I woke Tim up to show him. I warned him that the ponies are crafty, but he decided to leave the carrots right on top anyway. We fell back asleep and woke up to orange horse spit all over our cooler.

It was CRAZY swimming in the ocean in the middle of October. The water was gorgeous; it didn't even feel cold. We weren't the only ones staying in for hours, but everyone had their own private idaho. The waves were big and looked intimidating, but they were very gentle. There were no jellyfish or seaweed. There were, however, dolphins.

On Sunday, the 2nd day of our 3 day trip, we saw our neighbors pointing them out. Tim had forgotten to bring his camera, so he ran back to our campsite to grab it, but this very nice woman, named Lois, stopped him on his way back. He missed his photo op.

Sidebar: Lois - man, I hope that when I'm in my 70s or 80s I've got the gumption to search for people to camp with so that I can stay after my friends go home. She did eventually find out that there was a host that she could camp next to and she would keep her safe.

Monday we packed up everything. Kevin and Jackie had to leave, but Tim and I were in no rush. We went for another swim before we showered. The people up on the beach were pointing out at something and I saw fins. At first I started to panic thinking there were sharks, which Tim was just teasing about. Then I saw that they were dolphins - TONS of them and they were swimming right for us. The came within 10 feet of us pair after pair. I was squeeling with excitement. Knowing that dolphins are social creatures, I convinced myself this swim-by was intentional. They wanted to say hello. This encounter lasted around 20 minutes and by the end of it, I felt euphoric.

As Tim and I walked out of the water, off the beach toward the showers, I was in awe of how I felt. I'm not sure if I could attribute this to my adrenaline rush and the resulting endorphins, or was it because the dolphins had an effect on my brain, like some research suggests. I want to replicate it, though.

When Tim and I honeymooned in New Zealand, we spent a couple of hundred dollars on a Swim with the Dolphins tour. These were wild dolphins, not domesticated, however, so they could not guarantee that we would find a "friendly" group to swim with. We found a group of juveniles,with which they would not allow us to get in the water. They swam along with our boat for a while and I laid down on the front deck (I know this has an official name, but I'm ignorant of it) and they were right below me. Then I had to get up and give someone else a turn. This was not quite the experience I had hoped it would be, but I was happy.

The anniversary experience was so much different and better in so many ways. Number one, it was completely free. It was unexpected, and we only had to go a hundred and sixty miles instead of to the compete opposite side of the world. Tim wished he had captured it on camera, but I would have much rather been swimming with them than have pictures of them from the shore.

Thank you, God, for that experience. I'm sure it was a gift and we feel very blessed.

When you have many conversations with people and over the weeks you notice that many of them turn toward a particular subject, it kind of makes you feel as though Someone is trying to tell you something. It is strange, but it is just so strange that you start to believe there is really something more to it than just coincidence. Perhaps, something life-changing is about to happen – an "a-ha" moment. All you need is just some time to figure out what it all means.

Ever been there?

I have! It is what made me realize that I was meant to, and therefore had to, start Charesume. Now what has pervaded conversations is this concept of the Law of Attraction. I learned last night that this is not a new concept. It has gotten a lot more attention since the book The Secret has been prevalent suggested reading for anyone who mentions anything related to potential or success. Last night a gentleman in a real estate investment group told me that the organizer had given everyone a CD containing a powerful speech. He said it sounded like it had been recorded in the 50s; I can't recall whom the author was. In one line he summed the message up as, "If you believe it is yours and you will it, it will be." It meant anything. This echoes what I had began to read in a book by Janet White entitled Secrets of the Hidden Job Market. This book names this concept as The Law of Attraction. It is stated as being a Universal Law, like gravity, and it applies to anything and everything that is without prejudice.

In practice, the Law of Attraction is very much like repeating a mantra. Over and over again you call it out to the energies that be and your faith that it will be IS what brings it to fruition. This kind of reminds me of Wayne from Wayne's World. He sees that guitar and the girl and repeats, "It will be mine. Oh, yes. It will be mine." I actually used this in college when I was in pursuit of my first college boyfriend. It worked. It also worked when I was out of a job and finally found an opportunity that I recognized offered me the path that I sought to become a recruiter. Remember Aly McBeal when she developed a theme song that she sung every time she felt out of sorts. Recall Hooked on a Feeling?

I have a theme song that I think of whenever I feel my world crumbling in on me. Johnny Nash's I Can See Clearly Now gets into my head and I suddenly feel better. I think that it's time to select a song that reinforces for me that what I want, I will have. Of course, there is a Roy Orbison song (or Traveling Wilburies), but that song already has another designation. I am going to try this. I have written a song, still unfinished, which was supposed to be the theme song for TrueU Discovery, a non-profit organization that I represent. Maybe some day I'll actually finish it and it can serve as my theme song. Maybe it will even serve as others' theme song.

What would you select as a theme song to help you put the Laws of Attraction into action?

Those of you that had Showtime or watch the SciFi channel may know the show Dead Like Me. To briefly introduce you, an 18-year-old girl named George on her way to a temp job, her first realization of adulthood, gets pummeled by a toilet ejected by the MIR space station. Dying upon impact, she notices her own body on the ground and a woman (the Noxema chick) seems to be the only person that can see her. Her taken soul filled the Noxema girl's quota and now George takes her place as a grim reaper. Her day-to-day looks like this: At the crack of dawn she meets other reapers at a Waffle House to get her daily assignments, which are written individually on a post-it note with just the first initial, last name and ETD (estimated time of death). Her responsibility is to touch the individual before they die to release their soul. She is not privy to their final destination; she is just there to make sure that their soul is not trapped. Not everyone is ready to move on, but when they are, they see a light. This light takes different forms for everyone. For one wealthy woman, the light took the form of a sailboat/yacht. For a painter, the light took the form of an open window without the attachment of walls, which resembled one of the artist's favorite works. The yoga instructor saw a Hindu goddess.

There was a reason why I chose to major in communications, besides the fact that it was a major that was transferable to the most careers. It was fun to do more than just watch television and movies, especially in class. I enjoyed digging for the messages that the author intended for us to get only after really thinking about what we see. Everything in a television show and movie is intentional.

When I apply that do the Grand scale, all things being proportionate, the author of life, I believe, is God. He could be sending us messages in every day life. So far, believing that has worked. I do feel as though I "get it." Things that inspire me are meant to do so. They give me purpose and my purpose makes sense. When I follow through on these inspirations, good things transpire. Positive momentum builds. Fear subsides.

Many shows that I enjoy have one thing in common – they incorporate powerful messages about life, death, love and purpose. The idea that your death will be proportionately as beautiful as your life is what I believe is represented in the way that the taken souls envision their "light." I would like to believe that life after death is more brilliant and blissful than life on earth because it minimizes my fear of being taken from this life. What if, however, life after death is only brilliant and blissful proportionately to our life on earth?

Positive psychology and positive forward movement

Because I pursue stimulus and, once exposed, I am observing, absorbing, processing and analyzing information with the full extent my senses, I am filling my bucket. I share this information to fill other people's buckets with the overflow rather than wasting it. This is part of the fulfillment of being a contributor to the information age. Knowledge is a currency that I am using to achieve my dreams of financial freedom. I feel great about what that knowledge does to help other people improve their quality of life and achieve their dreams.

Micromovements

My alma mater, Ursinus College, extends an invaluable resource to its alumni – Ursinus Magazine. Like most fellow alum, the moment I receive the new issues I go straight to the back pages to view these items in this order: Wedding photos, Birth Announcements, Alumni News. Like most married fellow alum, I am over a year behind on sending in my wedding photo with all of the appropriate information, such as names and graduation years of the alumni in the picture.

I am taking Sark's advice and I took the first micromovement by getting a copy of the picture made. Also, I have scheduled the next micromovement to get out older Ursinus Magazine issues to verify graduation years. If at the time I have scheduled this micromovement I have more pressing priorities, I will reschedule the micromovement immediately.

With all of the projects that I delve into at one time, micromovements are a very helpful method for making progress. However, my husband grows very annoyed with the pop-up reminders that constantly "beep" on my computer.

Smell the roses

Looking at pictures is a lot like "smelling the roses." When you have the time to take your time, you can be transported back to a memory in time. It is so easy to forget these moments as we pack activities and obligations into each day. Often when you forget the memories, you can forget the lessons. Reliving the memories, I believe, is critical to refreshing yourself on what and who is important and to regain perspective. There are a couple great reasons why I occasionally take on a picture project as a gift. Number one, I get to smell the roses as I go through pictures. Number two, I offer that same opportunity to everyone who views the finished project. Do you have a box of pictures in your attic or basement? I encourage you to go through that box and perhaps take on a picture project of your own to make those pictures more accessible in the future. If this seems overwhelming, try Sark's micromovement support sheets.

I have stood on some ledges in my life, figuratively and literally. There were times I stood there, frozen, looking down and imagining what would happen if I jumped. I had a parachute, but was that enough to keep my safe? Would I hurt myself? Would I impair my life, my well-being? Would people wonder why I would do something so stupid and risky? Is it just safer to walk down rather than jump? It would take longer, but I'm young. I have plenty of time. But do I? Do any of us really have time to play it safe?

Why would I want to jump? For the thrill. To really live. Because if I didn't, I would never find out if I could have made it. Most importantly, because I could wind up where I really want to be and I don't really know how much time I actually have to get there.

Sometimes the challenge is to reach the ledge, not to jump. Climbing a mountain, however big or small, can be more satisfying if the peak is difficult to reach. Once you're there, you are rewarded with a breathtaking vista, a break, and the chance to see the world from a perspective that few people can gain from the valley. Though some people in the valley do feel fortunate that they get to look up at the magnificent mountain, some remain there in the valley, in the shadow of the mountain, resentful of it. It looms over them, blocking the warm sun, standing in the way of places far away.

I used to even fear the mountains. I would obsess about the violent volcanic activity that must have forced the land upward. Further tectonic or sediment instability could release boulders that would accelerate as they tumbled indiscriminately toward homes and family stores that have become confident and cozy in their village town, obliterating hopes and dreams at random. Then there were the ominous rain clouds that would start to circle around the peaks and build up between them until there was a thick blanket trapped until another front can lift it out. What if that took days and the rain just kept coming down? The streams would become rivers. The force would overtake the small bridges and flood the mountain pass and the only way out. Eventually, the waters would recede, but what would be left to live for if I remained?

This was a lot to think about when I was a child. Luckily, I figured out that there were happy, fulfilled older people in this village. Some of them had lived through catastrophic events, and it is what made them fascinating. There were also kids my age that were stricken by sudden illness or involved in unlikely accidents. I accepted that anything could happen at any time, but it might not. What a waste I had made of the days and the time that I had. All the while, these splendid mountains stood before me and all I did was fear them. And so, I became appreciative of the beauty and the shade and the rain that were possible because of the mountains.

Eventually, I wanted to pursue an even stronger connection with the mountains. I wanted to explore underneath the pine tops and know the hidden treasures. I wanted to see what the view of my village town was from the peaks. As I took time to get to know the mountains, I discovered and revisited the great places for picnicking, for meditating, and for watching the freight train come into town. I observed the animals that made their homes in the mountains' forests and ridges. The sun that most could not see rise in the morning or set at night, I could see from the other side of each peak. After the rains came, mountain streams cascaded over rocks and offered a refreshing mist after a hard hike. The sounds of water coming down all around me were so soothing and mystical. The smell of the wet pine needles opened up my lungs and my chest. I felt like breathing out was like pouring love back to the mountain.

Once I learned the mountain intimately, upon its ledges I began to imagine that jumping would be thrilling. The village folk would certainly get a kick out of watching me come down and it would be an interesting view to see my little town get bigger and bigger as I came in for a landing. For a while, the fear of getting hurt and the embarrassment I would feel if the naysayers turn out to be right kept me from taking steps toward making the leap. Some days I didn't even feel like visiting the mountains. But I didn't want the naysayesrs to be right. I had to prove them wrong. I knew better than to think that letting fear stop me from experiencing something was a waste of energy and time. I took the steps I needed to take to prepare for my jump and I set the date.

As the date approached, my feelings about my impending jump changed with my mood. Sometimes, I felt invincible. I pictured myself all brave, chest puffed up, shoulders back, chin up, just jumping. No fear at all. I knew exactly what to do and I landed on my feet. At other times, I was petrified. What was I thinking wanting to jump off the mountain? Neither overconfidence nor frozen-by-fear defined me (anymore). The image that made me most comfortable about my decision went like this:
The tandem instructor arrives at my cottage and I offer her a cup of kona coffee, but she refuses; She needs no coffee. I breathe in the coffee and feel invigorated. As we step outside and begin our walk to the east mountain, there is heavy dew that is making everything sparkle with the little bit of light that the mountain is now allowing to hit the west mountain and bounce off, which makes the village glow like a fire-lit living room. We can feel that the sun will be strong today and we feel radiation slowly heating the air. I know it will get cooler before we get hot, though, since we will have to climb the shaded side of the mountain before we see the sun in all its glory.
As we step to the foot of the mountain, our cheeks and our noses get red and cold. The pine needles are dewy, so we breathe strong as we hike higher. I can tell that the instructor is enjoying my mountain and I get great pleasure out of showing her certain special places that I don't mind sharing. As we reach the second summit (the first is not ideal for landing, she says) my mind is fresh. She is preparing the parachute and the endorphins from the hike are now calming me. There is a strange silence and it allows me to mentally retreat and really appreciate what I am about to do. Just as the thought enters that I don't hear wind, which we need to navigate the chute, I feel a soft breeze across my cheek and it makes me smile and close my eyes as I point my chin up toward the warm sun.

And that's how it happened. When she was ready she called me over to attach all the straps. We were already moving forward as she gave me quick, simple instructions, "Just keep running. Don't jump, Don't stop. Just run until there's no land under your feet, and in an instant, you'll be sitting." Sounded simple enough, so as she went on, I tuned her out to repeat a short mantra to myself. "Jumping is easy. Falling is fun." She was right. I hardly noticed that I was off the ground when the chute pulled my rear into the seat.

We were gliding over my town and I had intended on trying to identify all the familiar places, but once we were up there, I could see so far, I just wanted to take advantage of it. I followed the train tracks out as far as I could. I could see three stations! There are larger mountains miles away and the town midway up the mountain is huge for skiing. I could see the gondolas, but they weren't in operation. I could then tell that my impression of that mountain could be wrong. I thought it would be too overpopulated to enjoy like I enjoy my mountains, but from here I could see how little forest had been removed for the resorts and how much wilderness remains.
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The instructor took us back and forth with the wind. At times I wondered if we would stay up there forever! At first my legs were tense my knees felt stuck together, but I became so relaxed, I felt like I could swing my legs. Then she pulled one side and we twirled – FAST. I giggled as the force hit my stomach.

Once we had gotten below the peak level, I had plenty of time to get back to my planned activity. The first things I could make out were the churches in town. A lot of the other buildings just looked like big squares or rectangles. Cars looked so funny from this height, like they did in the Mr. Roger's Neighborhood intro. I tried identifying the streets and following them to my cottage. I thought it would stand out more. The challenge was removing something from the experience, so I told the instructor to keep spinning until we had to land. She steered us closer to the rugby field and we spun this way, then that way.
She said, "I'll bring you down low, then pull us up really quickly, and we'll simply land on our feet." And then we were on the ground.

For weeks I was afraid of nothing. I woke up early in the morning and filled my days with things that I normally would not have felt comfortable doing. I rented a bike and rode it to the town over the west mountain. I attended a town meeting AND voiced my opinion about the new traffic ordinance. I'd become so busy in my town that I hadn't visited the mountain in weeks after the jump. One day, I even signed up to volunteer for the suicide hotline. Perhaps my feat gave me an inflated sense of self-importance, however, because it wasn't long until I was down again, doubting my capabilities.

My first several hours of answering phones for the suicide hotline went well. Out of eight calls in four hours, the first seven callers were avoiding dealing with a situation or just going about dealing with a situation the wrong way. The eighth caller, however, was beyond my reach, beyond rationalization. After I had exhausted the steps in the manual, I tried sharing something personal with her. I told her how hopeless I had felt when I was a child and how I went from fearing everything to jumping off the east mountain. She did not relate. Instead, she felt as though she was the one without fear – she didn't even fear death. Trying to get her to examine why she would prefer death over life, I asked her what her spiritual beliefs were. She believed in God, and the devil, but not heaven, hell, or purgatory.
"Maybe there's nothing," she said. "Maybe we get to roam around the universe. I don't know, but I really need to know. It's kind of like how you needed to jump off the mountain."
Was I being a naysayer, I thought to myself? Wait a minute, this girl is going to cut her life short, break her family's heart, and, as I believed, be stuck in afterlife torture because she failed to appreciate life.
"We're all going to die someday. You're so curious that you can't wait?"
"I can't imagine that anything in my life will be that good that my interest in death will go away. It seriously is always on my mind."

This conversation and her ideas disturbed me. I told the supervisor that I felt like I was "losing this one." She sounded so chipper about it, like she had made up her mind and she was looking forward to it, like it was a vacation. At that moment it occurred to me that she called the suicide hotline, but for what reason?

The supervisor spent another fifteen minutes with her and eventually hung up. He said that I gave her the idea to jump of the east mountain. He allowed no explanation, but just asked me to leave and never return.

The newspaper would come and I would put reading it on my list of things to do, but the newspapers and lists of things to do would just accumulate. I figured that if a suicide happened in this little village town, people would be murmuring, so I stayed inside. Anything I could do to avoid finding out if she did, if my mountain was involved, and if it would be found out that I could have had some responsibility, I did. I even avoided thinking about my mountains.

Six weeks had gone by and the paragliding instructor called me to see if I had been craving to jump again or if I'd thought about getting certified to jump by myself. I told her that I hadn't thought about it in a while. She said that she had gone back to my mountain several times, which made me angry. "That's nice. Listen, I gotta go," and I hung up. She was enjoying my mountain a little too much. I started to feel jealous that she might have discovered some places that were sacred to me, places that I wanted to keep all to myself.

These thoughts were an invasion. I didn't like myself feeling jealous, thinking negatively. Logically, I knew this was a waste of energy. I could be using that energy to doing something that made me feel good, that would make me proud. I was so distracted. My emotions had a grip on me. I knew the only thing that would shake them off would be a brisk, vigorous hike.