Adventure Mom

I need new. Not necessarily new stuff (although I will always, always consider new shoes), but a new perspective. A new way to see, be, think. I need new like I need cereal and coffee each morning; hugs from my kids; time to myself. But you can't shoehorn new until you pitch the old. So, in the literal and metaphorical senses of purging, I'm cleaning house. One of the most satisfying experiences I've had the past week was pitching a minivan full of mementos, duplicate photos and assorted household junk at the dump. I even purged most of the cards we received at our wedding. Not because I'm unsentimental, but because they don't comfort me or give me a sense of history the way pictures or journals do. I also culled my mountain of sympathy cards. I lost Sean's journal around the time he died, in January. I was heartsick about it, because he'd written of his excitement leading to the birth of our first child, and recorded her milestones for months after. I...

 I jumped from a cliff in Oregon last Friday. Actually, I ran straight off. There was nothing unpleasant about that particular patch of grass high above Oceanside. But standing with my feet planted on the ground was preventing me from completing an item on my “bucket list:” flying. Strapped to a harness, an emergency parachute and my instructor pilot, Todd, I launched into my first paragliding experience (for an explanation of what paragliding is, click here): http://discoverparagliding.com/Pages/faq.html#WhatisPG It was glorious. I sat against the back of my chute and felt the wind against my face. I felt birdlike, calm, free. Todd steered over the tops of pine trees and the roofs of houses. I waved to a man on his deck below. I listened to waves crashing against Three Arches rocks and inhaled the salt air. Flinging yourself from terra firma isn’t easy. I could’ve knit a sweater between my knocking knees, I was shaking so much. But the desire to soar triumphed over attachment t...