Coffee with Shelly and the meaning of life

Shelly tells me over coffee that I place far too much importance on symbolism. And she’s right of course.

The very reason that I haven’t written anything on this blog for the past few weeks is that I wanted my next entry to be about jumping off a plane.

That was supposed to be two weeks ago.

But it rained.

So we moved it to last Sunday.

But it rained again.

It came to a point, for me, where I thought that my skydiving experience would count as a defining moment in my life. And that my life would then be split up between everything that came before and everything that came after I jumped off a plane.

Shelly tells me that I’m being melodramatic.

And perhaps she’s right again. But this is Me. Me who’s afraid of heights. Me who’s knees went weak from standing atop the Eiffel Tower. Me who can’t even walk to the edge of Centrepoint Tower without a great deal of effort, despite the fact that the whole place is covered in glass.

Jumping off a plane, for Me, will be a leap of faith of sorts. Not just faith in the guy that’s gonna be strapped to my back. But faith in the bigger picture. In the cosmos. It will be my blind swan dive into the hands of God.

Hopefully it will happen this week. Maybe not, again, depending on the rain.

And then Shelly points out (as others have too) that perhaps the fact that it’s been cancelled twice is a sign from God that I shouldn’t go skydiving at all.

Perhaps. But then that would be placing far too much importance on symbolism, wouldn’t it?