A Waterfall and a Warrior - Nikki Ivey

Looking my apparent death in the face, I was urged on by the unfamiliar tongue of an Australian Bushman. To him the task was simple; all he wanted me to do was jump off the cascading waterfall into the unfamiliar abyss.

As a student ambassador I expected a lot of things from my trip to Australia and New Zealand; jumping off a fifteen foot water fall in the presence of a man scantily clad in a loin cloth and war paint was not one of them no matter how reassuring he was. As the rest of my so-called friends remained silent, I could jump, risking spending the rest of my life in a wheelchair. Or I could remain on the ground to face a rather tough-looking aborigine, who most definitely knew how to use a boomerang.

Attempting to channel my inner Batman and Steve Irwin, I was sure the loud thumping of my heart was drowning out the soft murmurs permeating the green and yellow forest behind me. The forest pulsated with life, but the only thing I felt was that mine was about to end. I struggled to back away from the slippery rocks but something stopped me from running away-screaming-into the forest.

Wishing I’d picked a more secure place to have an epiphany, I realized I had to make a choice. Not a choice of whether or not to jump, but I had to choose between who I want to be and who I want to become. I could have turned around, refused to jump, and returned to the security of holding koala bears and listening to tour guides, but life is not meant to be that safe. It dawned on me how scheduled and logical my life truly was. Gym. Band. School. Student Council. Girls Scouts. Dinner. Homework. The road of my everyday life was so mapped out that watching paint dry was more of a thrill than the comatose entity of my life. Instead of the road I knew, I was certain I had to take the road less traveled, because I could not travel both. I needed to do something so irrational, so illogical, that it made sense. I had to be set free from myself. It became as clear as the gurgling water waiting patiently beneath me, that much more than my pride was at stake.

I closed my eyes, took two steps backward, and hurled myself off the momentous cliff.

Looking back now, from the comfort of land devoid of peculiarly strong men and waterfalls, I realize that this leap of faith has made all the difference. If I’d taken a step back instead of that fateful plummet forward, I would still be a high-achieving inquisitive student and model citizen. But I would not be Nikki Ivey. I would have never found the guts to start my own company, organize an initiative in Iraq, take center-stage at Carnegie Hall, or speak up at school board meetings. Only from a waterfall and a warrior did I learn that I had to jump before I could ever get over my fear of falling.