Carpe Diem

My Dad taught me to lean into life. If you’re on the fence about doing something—go or not go—the answer should be go, he said. Carpe diem!

He made me feel safe enough to take risks. When I was worried, he would reassure me that things were under control. When I was afraid that our house might get hit by a tornado, he looked up the statistical odds for me. When I worried about being kidnapped, he reminded me that he was not a rich man who could pay a big ransom. Balancing on my two-wheeler bicycle and learning to drive a stick shift, I knew I could do it because he knew I could. Like the rock in this picture, he built a solid foundation for me, a safe place from which to take flight.

Then one day, when I was in about fourth grade, my mother found a lump in her breast. As I walked with my Dad through the hospital parking lot after the biopsy, he said, things are not under control. He is a decorated Vietnam War fighter pilot; it takes a lot to scare him. But at that moment, he was afraid, and so was I.

Over time I have come to understand that courage stands on the shoulders of fear. Though he tried to protect me from it, I know now that there is little in our lives that we can control. We will lose people we love. We will fail. Lean forward anyway. Seize the day.

Me, seizing the day

at Tennessee Valley Trail, Mill Valley CA

(photo by Valerie Saul)