words patricia lidis | images patricia lidis & cebe loomis
I used to be terrified of bridges. Rather, I was afraid that my body would propel itself off of a bridge without my permission. I would tuck my phone deep into my pockets so that I didn’t throw it. It was the kind of feeling that you can get when you hold a really cute puppy and want to squeeze it but you have to stop yourself from killing it. I would clutch onto the cold railing just in case I leaned too far to the edge.
I wasn’t suicidal. More terrified that my body would make the decision for me. “Sorry, Patricia. This is your time. Deal with it. Hope you can breath underwater!”
I’ve since gotten over this fear and come to understand the dominance that your body can feel when on top of so much land and water, understand how small the body is compared to the view it beholds. Instead of fear, I sense power. The powers of conquering heights, conquering fear itself. Now, what I experience is a moment of consciousness and comprehension. How I can feel so important while there is so much more than me?
We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.