As the Paradigm Shifts | Where can you breathe?

||| AS THE PARADIGM SHIFTS by ROSIE KUHN |||

A few years ago, my client Clyde was going through a rough patch. It was hard to find any peace in his day-to-day life. And as we all know, it’s essential to find even a moment of no-stress when possible—our systems need time to decompress, reboot and restore itself.

He told me that the only time he felt truly disconnected from the weight of it all was when he went paragliding.

“Do THAT!” I said. “Every chance you get—do that!”

Some time later, Clyde sent me a video from one of his flights along the California coastline. “Hi Rosie. I want to show you what it’s like to be up here!” Through his GoPro, he talked me through the skies, inviting me to imagine it for myself. And he added, “If you’re ever around, I’d love to take you up!”

There was no hesitation in me. It was a full-body “Hell Yes!”

Fast forward, a few years later…

Clyde reached out to let me know he’d be in Seattle and asked if I wanted to meet him at Tiger Mountain—for a ride.

Another unequivocal, “Hell Yes!”

The Reluctant Adventurer: “Well, At Least I Tried”

Even with the yes, there’s always a part of me looking for a way out. That way, if something didn’t work out, I could say, “Well, at least I tried. I guess Life had other plans.”

First test? Getting ferry reservations off and back onto Orcas Island. As we know, it’s nearly impossible in summer tourist season. So I figured it would a “Sorry, Clyde, but at least I tried.”

Damn it. I got reservations on the perfect day, effortlessly.

“Well,” I thought, “maybe I’m too old for this. I’m 73. Surely someone might say, ‘Oh no, she’s too old.’” But Clyde had told me about all kinds of people he’d taken up, so that excuse didn’t hold.

On a day I was about to text Clyde and cancel, he sent me videos of his daughter and her little friends—ages 6 and 8—soaring joyfully with him. Their relaxed delight stripped away my final resistance. I couldn’t yet come up with a good enough excuse.

Then my friend Fred offered to come along and cheer me on. Having a champion by my side? How could I say no?

Still, the night before, I had a terrible pain in my neck. “Maybe this is a sign,” I told myself. But by morning, my body was ready to go.

Surely the Seattle traffic will get in the way. Or maybe Clyde will cancel. Or maybe the weather won’t cooperate. “Oh well, at least I tried.”

Nope. Perfect weather. Perfect timing. Clyde showed up right on time. So did we.

Meeting Clyde Again

In the ten years I’d known Clyde, we’d only met once in person. It felt so good to hug him for real. Virtual hugs are nice, but still.

The moment we connected, he began preparing me for our flight. No small talk. Just gentle presence and clarity of our mission.

I had no idea what to expect—but this was a whole paragliding community! The Seattle Paragliding Center was buzzing with students and instructors. Everyone was excited—for themselves, and for me. They made jumping off a mountain sound not just logical, but a no-brainer.

Some students shared that their flights only lasted 7 minutes. “I could do 7 minutes,” I thought. “I can do 7 minutes!”

It Takes the Time It Takes

Clyde wanted the conditions to be just right. Enough wind, the right direction, the right moment. He encouraged me to watch and listen to others preparing for tandem flights, so I could settle into the rhythm.

And it worked. The repetition softened me. I could feel it in my body. I didn’t feel fear. A little trepidation, perhaps, but that’s very different from fear. This was happening. And now it was up to me. Would I meet it with resistance and reluctance—or with openness and presence?

This is the edge so many of us face. We want the experience, but we don’t stay present enough to experience the experience.

All I had to do was keep breathing.

In the time I spent on that mountain, I watched Clyde be Clyde. He was present, grounded, kind, capable and comfortable in himself and his mastery.

And it dawned on me: this is what we look for in the people we want to jump off mountains with.

As we stood together in that wide-open skyspace, I had a moment:
“Clyde is one of my favorite people on the planet.”
Impeccable presence. Clarity of being. Conscious. Compassionate. This may have been the whole point of this adventure—to experience that moment of knowing…

That regardless of how often I see my favorite people, or how much time we spend together—these moments matter. These are the moments to celebrate. The moments where I breathe!!

Where I can breathe

I wondered if this might be why some people want to be around me—not for my wisdom, though I’m grateful that’s appreciated. But because, I hope, they breathe a little easier when we’re together.

That’s what I want in my life: people I can breathe with.

And in that moment—on the side of a mountain—I just kept breathing.

“Start running, Rosie!”

At last, the moment came. Clyde looked at me and said, “Now, Rosie. Start RUNNING!”

I ran. 

“Keep running, Rosie! Keep running!”

I wanted to laugh—my feet were off the ground and still running, nothing below but sky. Then we were airborne.

I took a moment to settle into the harness. I whispered to myself, “I’m okay. It’s okay.”

That became my mantra.

Clyde, just inches behind, gently narrated what was happening—the wind, the thermals, the lift.

I kept breathing. I let go of fear. I relaxed. Over and over again.

Because I knew this would be over quicker than I wanted, and if I’ve learned nothing else from any of my adventures, its that, I’d be left with either the embodied imprints of angst and fear, or the exquisite moment of the quietly sacred embrace of presence.

We were in the air for only 10 minutes. The landing? Effortless. I was unscathed. Only wishing, maybe, it would have lasted just a little longer.

The journey home was smooth. Pizza in hand, an earlier ferry caught, I found myself immersed in a state of enchantment.

What a life!

And this morning, coffee in hand, here’s what I realized:

Where I can breathe… and who I can breathe with…

That’s what guides me to experience me.
 Beyond material wealth. Beyond being someone special. 
Just this .
Just here. 
Just now.


Breathing.

Nice.

Rosie wrote a book called The Unholy Path of a Reluctant Adventurer. You can find it here!