sparkle.

There's so much wisdom to be gained from a decision, but it filters down in in layers, and seasons, and full understanding takes time; sometimes years.

We are making our way through the year, already having passed the half-way point. The beginning for me held extremes, of which I am grateful. There was training, which included extensive runs, while preparing to leave a nest wedged cozily into a sturdy Tulsa tree, and a falling; for what, I do not know. I only know that there was one, and in relation to the consequences that came from conscious decisions made, the landing itself was painful. I think painful landing was a the decisions pre-requisite. It's lessons are filtering down, in layers, and the understanding is taking time; will likely take years.

My friend Bruce would have told me all of that, I believe, had we had the time. When I told him of my upcoming adventure, and all of its branches, his eyes sparkled with excitement for me. Nodding his head in affirmation, he coined the phrase that will always belong to him, telling me to "turn up the volume." That's the truth that filtered down to him, after years of risky decisions made. He told me briefly of some consequences, even of some regret, but those truths didn't alter his life's sentiment. I would propose that the pain and difficulty, the confusion and guilt, self-deprecation and doubt, that are often consequent of risky decisions? Making your way through those things makes the sparkle brighter.

Before leaving, he let me know he was free, and that the doctors had told him it was gone. He had made the decision to cut off his long silver pony-tail months prior, before the effects took hold and took it from him. He was going to beat that, too. His look was different. Had you asked me before, I would have said that the ponytail added to his essence, and was a part of all the things that made up such a human as him. Funny thing though: When it was gone, he was still Bruce, and the sparkle was still there.

And now that I have the eyes to see, and am coming out of the difficulty of risky decisions made, I would say that the sparkle came from what he continued to make it through. It was made brighter because of the traveling through consequence, and the coming out on the other side. I would imagine that when I told him of my upcoming risks and falls, somewhere in the back of his head, he was aware of the difficulty I would face. And yet he encouraged me anyway, without warning, wanting my sparkle to get brighter from the working through, too.

I learned of Bruce's passing via the web a little over a month into my journey. He had beat it, the journey of cancer. And that, to me was the right answer, and a sense that the universe had literally made a mistake ensued. People often say things like, "he had lived a good life, it was his time, he was in a lot of pain, etc." A gut wrenching NO was the reaction to that sentiment. He wasn't finished, and the sparkle was genuinely extinguished too soon.

My heart sometimes feels like a little league coach, edging me on, pushing me further, and after sliding into base with a skinned up knee and bruised upper thigh, it gives me a hearty pat on the back! "Good job kid," both Bruce and my heart would say. Turning to look, my response goes something like, "ouch, that hurt." They look at me knowingly. "Of course it did," they would respond. "Why the heck didn't you TELL me IT WAS GOING to HURT?" "We wanted to see you slide," they respond. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"Keep going."