On a recent trip to the Dominican Republic, I had the opportunity to visit 27 Charcos, 27 limestone pools, nestled into the mountains. Upon arrival, our group was outfitted with a helmet and a life jacket. Our guides led us up a sometimes steep walking trail. At the end of the trail, we found waterfalls! We would be jumping cliffs, sliding down natural waterslides and swimming through narrow canyons. As we approached the water, I noticed that our entry into the river was an easy 4-foot jump. With great anticipation, we threw ourselves into the water.
The second jump, however, was a big one, so big that an alternative route was provided for those with fear of heights. I wasn’t going to take the easy way out, I was just going to be brave and do it. The most courageous of our group scrambled to get in line without hesitation. I hung back to get an idea of what was in store for me. I watched my group members jump, one by one. Pure glee, followed by a huge splash. We clapped, hooted and hollered for each person. I wasn’t at the end of the line, but I was near the back. My wait to jump got shorter and shorter. Everyone was having so much fun that I didn’t think to be scared. Until I got to the top. The cliff bulged out a bit, so I realized that I would have to jump out before going down. The guide grabbed my life jacket at the shoulders and gave me some instructions that didn’t register as my mind started to spin.
“One, two, three!” he counted.
As I moved to spring off the cliff, I panicked. I leaned back against the cliff wall.
“Don’t do that, we could both get hurt,” warned the guide.
Ok, deep breath. In and out. This time I counted, “One, two, three!”
Driven by my need to please and perform, I pushed myself over the bulge, propelled by a push from the guide. I hung there for a second, suspended in the air. It was so far down. In the free fall, I realized that I forgot to breathe. I forced myself to take a breath. I felt a mixture of fear, uncertainty and exhilaration. Who knew what position I held as I leapt, I was just trying to breathe and get to the water. At impact, I heard the splash and felt a sharp, searing pain on my left hip. I quickly swam away, making room for the next jumper, As I climbed out of the water, I checked my hip. It stung, but I didn’t see any marks. We continued on, none of the jumps as scary as this one. I marveled as we swam through a narrow part of the river, surrounded by steep limestone walls. I was astounded at the waterslides we rode down into the deep pools. I remember turning to the others and shouting, “Can you believe we are doing this? This is amazing!”
Even though I ended up with a huge, purple bruise on my hip, the 27 Charcos excursion turned out to be my favorite part of the trip to the Dominican Republic. It also has become a metaphor for where I am now. Since I left teaching, I am in a bit of a free fall. Getting off the cliff, making the decision to leave, was not instantaneous. I made the decision multiple times, but each time I hesitated. At the last minute, I decided that what followed would be worth the leap. So, I took a big breath, counted and handed in that resignation. Now that school has started for others, I am remembering to breathe, watching the world around me as I free fall. Each day brings fear, uncertainty, exhilaration, wonder and joy. I haven’t hit the water yet. It might hurt. Yet… wonders await and bruises heal. I will emerge from this a stronger person, richer for the adventure and experiences I have encountered and risks taken.
jumping waterfalls 