The Spirit of Adventure is a compelling urge that lives within all of us, though we each experience it in different ways. Some people feel empowered to travel the world while others find their satisfaction in reading the fantastic tales of other's journeys. How ever you experience it, we all share a love for adventures and stories of thrill, reckless abandon, and bravery.
Until we were married, my husband had never experienced the type of lifestyle which I had grown accustom to; a life of exploration, risk taking, and thrill seeking. He was content reading the stories of travels, looking at amazing photos taken by other people, and continuing with his life without undergoing such trials for himself. When we met and he discovered my reckless love for adventure, it intimidated him at first. The idea of someone he cared about blazing blindly into dense wilderness or exploring decrepit ruins was concerning. He didn't understand at first why any rational person would risk their life for something so trivial. But by small degrees over time, he began to understand.
After a hike through a mountainous region steeped with rocky ledges and warnings of poisonous snakes, dressing up as pirates for the Scarborough Fair, wading through swift currents in a secluded valley in search of dinosaur tracks, plunging deep into a swimming hole in search of lost treasure, climbing a massive stone staircase to reach a paradise haven at the top, and hiking up to a cliff-side to investigate a haunted cabin, his own spark for the love of adventuring was kindled and grew with each expedition.
Most recently, we took on a new challenge which tested our heart, nerve, and sinew. On a whim, we visited Zero Gravity thrill park in Dallas and climbed to the top of their seven story tower. The structure was winding staircase encased in metal mesh fencing. Each step upward resounded with a metallic thud as we trekked higher and higher before reaching the top of the landing. With a view overlooking the city beyond from seven stories high, we were fastened into a harness and latched to a cord that singularly stood between us and an abruptly fatal plummet to the ground. His harness was attached to the cord by his waist, and I was bound by the ankles.
Without a hesitation, he leaped from the platform and plunged from the tower, springing back up a few moments later before falling again, and again. I was persuaded to leap head-first, leaning from the railing by my arms before releasing, allowing my upper body to drop as my feet slid from the platform. Wind rushed around me deafeningly loud as I stretched out my arms in an embrace to the adrenaline that flushed through my veins as I watched the ground grow ever closer. I'm certain that I shouted something in the glorious rush of the moment, but I can no longer recall what exactly I said as I raced toward the ground at a rapidly increasing speed. Then, as though I were snagged by the feet by some unseen force, I was thrust by the ankles back into the air toward the tower. Dangling like a rag doll being tossed about by a restless child, I bellowed in manic laughter while grinning wildly. Sometime shortly after, I was dropped down onto a landing pad after nearly missing it and landing in the dirt.
The experience might have been over in regard to having our feet back on solid ground, but the feeling never dissipated. And with my husband now having a taste for the same thrill which draws me like an addict to seek new adventures, he has conspired with me on further expeditions which we may undertake in the near future. He has tasted flight and longs to return to the sky, he has drunk from the cup of adrenaline and seeks it again for the thirst is insatiable, he has at long last found the Spirit of Adventure; who knows where it will take us next?
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