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  • It's only a moment but it seems longer when you're looking over the edge. 40 meters or 131.233596 feet. When they put the cord around your feet, it feels heavy, momentous. But as you look over the edge, the cord feels like a feather, as if it might not hold.

    You are alone in this, as in all things that matter. The thought crosses about the aloneness that lies ahead for all of us, the instant before our eyelids close for the last time, and as you stand on the edge, you hope that it's a metaphor rather than an ironic co-circumstance.

    People thinks it requires courage but that's not it. What it demands is commitment. Because once you step off the edge, the rest is inevitable. Once you took that first step of that walk onto the bridge, it's not whether you jump but how. As a man, as a little girl, or if you're lucky, someone fundamentally yourself. Five, four, three, two, one. I will.

    And there's no thought, no weight, no me, in that moment. I fall out of time. And then - bang! I'm back and I'm laughing and upside-down and it's a wondrous and comical thing.
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