Taking the Plunge

The precipice is inviting. I'm standing right near it looking down and the view is fascinating. I'm tempted to jump because I think it might be better than just standing around where I am now, doing nothing. Despite the great height I can see faces of plenty of people down below. Black faces, brown faces, white faces; all slightly tired but happy faces. I wiggle my toes wondering if I can feel some sensation that will prepare me for what it will be like when I am airborne. It feels pleasantly uncomfortably like a sudden gust of cold wind on a day that's clouding over, that makes you suddenly twist and contort your body in self-defense.

The only thing holding me back is the fact that I don't have wings and that I'm terrified of crashing and burning on the mountain face on my way down. In my mind, if I listen hard enough I can hear voices that tell me that the lack of wings won't matter. Voices of the faces down below tell me they didn't have the wings when they took the leap either and that somehow wings always grow midflight.

I turn around and step backwards to the edge, my heels sticking out in mid-air. I say a silent prayer and do a vicious back-flip into nothingness.

My MBA has begun.