When I was a little kid, I’d spend most of my free time on our house’s rooftop, where I could see the sky and be mesmerized by its vibrant color. The idea of flying was so enticing to me that it became one of my dreams to experience it, but not to the extent that I would dream of maneuvering a plane, as I don’t see myself in that path—mostly because math isn't my forte. I suppose I’ve always just wanted to hug the wind—a wind strong enough to fan my fire for adventure and simply make me breathe. Perhaps the sensation of the wind and the vast world above us reminded me that there is more out there than what I could see from that rooftop, from the screens that I often stare at, and from the daily life I’ve grown accustomed to. This particular day brought me back to those childhood realizations, like a gentle tap on the shoulder reminding me of the awe I felt towards the cool-hued heights above.

My family decided to visit Tagaytay to celebrate my cousin Rex’s birthday—though it wasn’t really his birthday, just his birth month. It was a warm and cozy morning when I woke up late to the sounds of my family getting ready. How could no one have woken me up? I was nearly left behind. Feeling betrayed and a little sour, I hurriedly prepared myself as well. Despite the rushed start, we embarked on a god-awful ride, filled with boredom and queasiness of the bumpy road. It felt like my brains and stomach were being jumbled together. Thankfully though, my cousin and little sister kept me entertained during the trip, making it at least bearable. 

We enjoyed a satisfying lunch in Tagaytay with a breathtaking view, where I can see a line dividing the sea of foliage below and the serene waters blending seamlessly with the sky. Afterward, we explored a zoo nearby, a trip down memory lane as we encountered animals that would have thrilled my younger self. As we strolled through the zoo, my little sister’s awe and wide-eyed wonder at every animal she saw rubbed off on me, rekindling a sense of nostalgia and wonder. I even saw a tiger sticking out its tongue, an adorable sight that briefly tempted me to pet the animal, thankfully common sense prevailed and I still have two arms today.

Later, we came across a bird enclosure at the zoo that was honestly sad-looking. It was a small glass cage, maybe big enough for ten people, with no lush greenery or flowers but this light brown oat-meal looking thing covering the floor. My brother asked us if we wanted to feed them inside, to which we agreed. Seeing these birds up close, as they tickle my palms and indulge themselves with food made me smile as I’ve always adored them. I am not a bird enthusiast but they do pique my interest a lot of times. Whenever I look at the birds flying in the sky, I feel inspired and envious at the same time. Inspired to put myself out there and jealous because they’re just out there, free, with the wind.

After a tour around the zoo, we sat at a café inside and ordered food. As we ate, my cousin noticed a man in his fifties riding the zipline in front of the food shop. “Ate, zipline tayo?” he asked. I was hesitant to agree with him because of the overflowing thoughts about rope snapping and death! My brother, however, agreed in an instant. “Tara na, minsan lang ’to,” he said, encouraging me, but not enough to move me from where I was seated. So I stayed and watched them walk their way to the zipline. I don’t want to die just yet! Who knows how safe that rope is? I sighed and fiddled with my fingers as I overthink about it. I was afraid because of all the things I was considering that probably had an unlikely chance of happening. But the wide sky suddenly caught my attention, as if it were calling out to me, as if it were pushing me to say yes. You know what? Just do it. YOLO, right? I thought. So with a deep breath, I swallowed my fears and ran towards them. 

Fortunately, I was just in time to join them before they took off. My dad was talking to one of the staff while we went up the stairs. I was wiggling my hands around and doing little jumps to ease my anxiety, hoping that it would be pulled by gravity and absorbed by the Earth. "Kinakabahan ka ba?" My brother asked, to which I responded with a nod. "Just pray to God," he then said. As if God could swoop in and catch me if the rope snapped. When they finished preparing my gear, I approached the edge of the platform, my heart in my throat. The staff double-checked my harness and without warning, I was midair, flailing my feet with nothing to support it. As I glide through the sky, I can feel the wind embrace me which slowly calmed me down and drowned out my fears. The initial moment of freefall was both terrifying and liberating. I shouted loud, not because I was scared of the height but because it felt like all my burdens were being lifted. It was like every worry was being pulled away from my body as I zoomed to the other side. The adrenaline I felt was like a bolt of electricity rushing in my body that sparked a sensation of relief and liberation.

The world below passed by in a blur, and in those few moments, I felt truly alive. For far too long, my life felt stagnant, as still as the calm waters of a lake. While peace has its merits, staying still for too long gets tiresome, similar to the pain of legs that have been standing for hours—aching and wobbly. There is a reason why you can’t drink water that is still for too long. I grew tired of gazing at the same four walls of my house, and I was determined to discover the world beyond them. I was craving the rush of adrenaline and the thrill of new experiences. It was time to leave my comfort zone, to embrace the world beyond my doorstep, and to soar in the skies. 

As I write this essay, I can’t help but tear up a bit. I realized just how much that day and that experience gave me something to reflect on that marked a significant turning point in my life. It may seem like a shallow reason to cry on but that ride on the zipline became a reminder that life is meant to be lived to the fullest, and that sometimes, we have to break free from our self-imposed limitations to truly embrace it. Life is too short to let fear–or anything really–hold us back. Soaring through the air on that zipline and seeing those confined animals showed me that the world is a vast and beautiful place, filled with mystery and experiences waiting to be ventured that would probably be left undiscovered if I just cage myself because of ridiculous, petty reasons like laziness and insecurities. How would I know things and learn if I keep on listening to the calls of my bed? How would I grow if I let the what-ifs and self-doubting devour me and prevent me from taking flight?

The truth is, every choice we make in life involves trade-offs, you will never get to know what would happen if you had chosen the second, or third, or fourth option and that’s the price of choosing the first option. Every “yes” to something is also a “no” to something. But, it is through choices and these experiences that we learn and grow, regardless of whether they lead to success or not. These choices and the consequences of it are what shape us into who we are today. If I hadn’t decided to ride that zipline, when would I come to realize this? Or would I realize this at all? The thing with choices is that they are the brushstrokes on the canvas of our lives, creating a unique masterpiece filled with colors, textures, and shapes. Each choice, whether it pushes us forward or nudges us back, contributes to the evolving narrative of our existence, and that we shouldn’t regret the choices that we make because that is what we felt like doing at the time. In our eyes, it was the best path to tread, no matter how ugly and dangerous it may seem to others, and no matter how distasteful the journey or the end of the road was, it is still important because it is one of the building blocks to who you are now.

As Anais Nin once said, “Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.” It’s probably the most cliché thing ever, but dwelling on regrets and what-ifs will lead to nowhere, and if I did, I’ll probably stay standing for hours with wobbly legs. Life is a constantly evolving journey, and in every step and risk that comes with it, contributes to the growth of ourselves. Ultimately, life is not just about the destination; it’s about the journey, the experiences, and the transformations we undergo.

In the end, being stagnant is not totally peaceful. Being with the flow is—unbothered, just flowing with the current.