I had a most troublesome time shaking off the cliff. I kept going over it, frame by frame, over-analyzing it. “Why exactly did I slide?” “Why exactly did I stop?” For some reason I thought I could have completely avoided it and still have walked the same path that day.
 
My life was suddenly filled with familiar elements seen in a different way, one bathed in brilliant light. I was wrapped up in noticing the intrinsic beauty of even the drabbest of things. It felt as if I were new to this planet and was going through an alien’s introduction to…well, everything. Doors were new, grass was new, ants were new. As much as I marveled I also was confused. My logical self wanted to understand why it was all so new and when the novelty would wear off. My spiritual self would be fine if the shine of daily life never faded.
 
As the year went on another aspect of the cliff began to emerge. This was nowhere near as fascinating and wonderful. This was a reminder that came to control me. Many months after returning from the cliff I found myself on the coast of Lake Michigan. I was visiting a lighthouse there to photograph it. The light was a smallish tower with no house attached. It was newer than the classic style and built for automation. No keeper was required, therefore no house built. The light was at the end of a cement jetty with a paved walkway on top. I walked out as waves lapped playfully at the blocky sides. On occasion one would splash up on the walkway.
 
I took plenty of pictures and lingered at the light. At the time I lived in Iowa and rarely saw significant bodies of water. Whenever I did, I tried to remain as long as possible, knowing the next time might not be for months. Tourists came and went, fishermen scouted spots, boat watchers passed by. I stayed, watching the boundless horizon and imagining an opposite shore. The lake was far too wide to see the other coast, but one could dream of it.
 
I felt an urge to leave as the sun began to set and the sky grew grey. As I looked to the paved walkway I noticed how the waves had grown. Some were now cresting over the jetty, although not in a dangerous manner. In an instant my adventurous self was sent into paralysis and the cliff came back. Never before had I been rendered immobile by a memory and I surely didn’t want to start now. My heart pounded harder, my breath became staggered and my mind was consumed by the recollection of looking straight down to the surf from the cliff’s edge. I was shocked at falling prey to something that happened several months ago. Surely I would’ve been over it by now.
 
Standing beneath the lighthouse I understood quickly how the cliff still had control over me and that this hyper awareness could lead me into serious harm. There’s a fine line between vigilance and nervous to the point of distraction. All I could do was stare at the growing waves and how they were now starting to wash over the walkway. I knew that I needed to leave soon before the jetty turned perilous.
 
It took a tremendous amount of convincing, but I shoved off. For the entire walk back I was incredibly nervous and worked like a fiend not to shuffle. “Come on,” I thought to myself. “You’re the great explorer, grand adventurer, swashbuckling traveler. Who are you to be knocked around by some silly memory?” But in truth I was…all the way back to the car.
 
Before I left the lighthouse’s shadow I made a most sincere vow. I would return to the cliff on the anniversary and face down this new fear. I would remain until I had control back. This jetty would be the last place the clifftop would have me. And so I did. One year exactly I was back on the cliff in the same spot where my toes nearly hung over the edge. Some friends begged me to stay in Iowa, pointing out that I was clearly tempting Fate. This time, they felt, Fate wouldn’t be as generous. Other friends rallied full support, knowing that I was going to reverse a strangle hold on my soul.
 
I was hesitant all the way there, questioning my choice to go through with this. Were my cautious friends right, was something horrible going to happen this time ‘round? Were my courageous friends right, would I walk away that much stronger? I knew that Fate or not, I had to attempt it and it had to be on the day. To turn back without at least seeing the cliff would mean it would have me forever. I couldn’t allow that.
 
I was nervous while walking up the path to the cliff. Actually I was downright scared. It took a lot of gingerly creeping toward the water, an overly healthy respect of the rocks and a new pair of hiking boots designed to walk on slick rocks. It didn’t matter how long it took, but eventually I not only came to be okay with the memories, I conquered them. I sat on the edge, feet dangling over, in the exact spot. It was then that I knew my fear lost and I willed it away.