The Jump and the Drain
It’s the summer of 1982. I step onto the diving board, finally ready to make the leap into the dark abyss. My dad has promised a foot-long hot dog from The Hut concession stand if I jump into the scary, deep end of the Shamrock Hotel’s Olympic-sized pool. I had avoided it for the last few summers. Instead, I spent hours watching the other kids jump off of the floppy, thin board as I waded in the shallow end.
I decide it’s time to do something about it this summer. Today is the day. I walk out, first looking at the expansive scene of a clear blue sky reflecting on a massive rectangular pool lined with lounge chairs, the kind with large bands of plastic that left lines on you when you laid on them for too long. Everything becomes louder as fear takes over - the sounds of toddlers in the shallow end with their parents, the teenagers rough-housing in the pool, the lifeguard blowing his whistle at the teenagers. My chest tightens, my stomach suddenly hurts, and I wonder if I’m making a huge mistake.
I pause in the middle of the board and look down, finally, and see what I’ve been trying to avoid: a mysterious, checkered grate. The drain. This is what I’ve been dodging for the last few summers. If I get too close when I jump in, I tell myself, my hair will get caught and I will drown. I am sure of it. I am not just jumping in the deep end for the first time. I am figuring out how to survive it.
I turn around to see if I can make an escape by getting off the diving board. A line has formed behind me and they do not look pleased. “Just go!” I hear from a kid behind me. And the truth is, I want to. I want to get that hot dog. I want to make my parents proud. Make myself proud. I want to survive the drain. I want to have the same fun that other kids do when they jump with reckless abandon. I must have stayed on that diving board for 10 minutes. Maybe it was 10 seconds, but it felt like 10 years. I walk out to the edge, look down, spot the drain, take a big breath in, and jump.
The cold water surrounds me. It feels like an icy hug on a hot summer day. It’s quiet under the water. Or maybe my fear melts away and my world becomes quiet enough for me to enjoy it. As I bounce to the top and swim to the side, I realize I didn’t even notice the drain. My attention was completely focused on this new experience, thrilling feelings, and an adrenaline rush from trying something that I had been wanting to do for so long. I survived it. More than that. I loved it. After I ate my foot-long, I ran back in line to do it all over again.
Before that day I let certain limiting thoughts and beliefs about what was possible hold me back from exploring something I really wanted to do. This is a common human experience. We get stuck in old beliefs, feelings, and behaviors that no longer serve us. They impede us from being brave and overcoming what gets in the way of what we want. The answers are in us, the motivation to take the leap is just beneath the surface. The first step? A willingness to dive in.
Ask yourself:
1) What do I want to jump into as a leader at work or in my life?
2) What does my drain look like?
3) What becomes possible when I take the leap?
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