Flying Through The Air With The Greatest Dys Ease: Part 2

...Previously

The heavy bar suddenly pulled me out into space—OHMYGOD!

“Stand up! Stand up tall! You’re a princess!” Trembling fiercely, I stood up. The bar’s pull eased up. I resumed breathing. “Hup!”

I hovered.

“Jump!”

A roaring in my ears. My body pressed, whooshed through the air. My arms hadn’t pulled out of their sockets!

“Lift up!” Peter shouted from below. The words passed by, mere noise.

“That’s OK. Somersault off onto the net. Swing forward— Swing forward!

I swung forward.

“Back!” Back.

“Forward!” Forward.

“Let go and tuck!”  I swung back.

“Let go of the bar!” I swung forward.

Two more tries; my hands refused to open. First I didn’t want to take the bar; now I didn’t want to release it.

“No more swinging.” Peter called up to me. My hands let go. I plummeted to the net, landed on my face, crawled to the edge, slid down the fireman’s pole, fell to the ground and kissed it.

When I stood up, Peter mime-nudged me. “Hey, D,” he smiled with humor. “Got a few trust issues?”

I burst out laughing. Just a few.

“Check your body. Anything hurt?” I shook my head.

“See the net? See these ropes? It’s safe. Trust us. Next time you go up, relax, enjoy it.” Next time? Was he crazy?

OK, Warrior Spirit, Warrior Spirit.  Each limb contrary, doing its own thing, I panted up the ladder for a second flight. Young, magnificently muscled Spencer clipped on safety ropes, instructed me in a deep South Carolina accent to place my feet, lean out and grab the bar with right hand. Then I froze.

“Lean further out, it’ll be easier to grab the bar.”

“IT’S A LIE! YOU’LL DIE!” screamed my mind.I leaned further out. Spencer pulled back harder on my waist belt. I hung there, tilted out into open space.  Slowly, slowly, I leaned even further out, felt that sweet spot and grasped the bar firmly with my left hand.

“Outstanding!” Spencer cheered. “When you bend your knees, stay upright. OK… bend the knees. Hup!”

I was flying, flying, flying— “Lift up!”—  folded my knees to my chest, hit that moment of complete weightlessness— Wow!  And missed my chance to hook my shins over the bar. “Oh! Almost!” Peter groaned from below. Complete and thrilling satisfaction filled me to overflowing. It’s all timing! Releasing the bar to land on the net, I couldn’t wait to fly again.

For my third and final flight, I scampered up the ladder, alternating hands and feet, painlessly, effortlessly. My body trembled as before, but my attitude was workman-like. This time, I told myself, the legs go over the bar.

Didn’t happen. But, didn’t matter. That immense feeling of satisfaction again filled me to overflowing. I couldn’t stop grinning.

Peter sauntered over, his eyes beaming: I-am-very-pleased-with-you-Young-Grasshopper. I beamed back.

“You let all that resistance go in the last two flights,” he observed. I nodded. 

“Impressive.” I beamed my agreement.

He grinned at me.

Will I do this again? No way.