The Order Of The River Rope Swing

It was August and the summer sun was high in the sky. It blazed down on the river rocks scalding the bottom of my bare feet. Relief was immediate as I plunged my feet into the river, the cool water so refreshing that I couldn’t help but submerge the rest of me. We had just arrived at our camp site, the river was located down a small embankment and across 50 feet of medium sized round river rocks. My older brother, my two cousins, and I could hardly wait to explore as we steadily blew into the small chewy plastic valves of the inflatable loungers we were diligently filling, each exhaled breath making stars at the edge of my vision. Our floats finally filled, we pushed off the shore and into the gentle current. 

My grin from ear to ear was a mirror image to those of my companions as we meandered downriver. Not long after a bend, we came to a deep eddy formed by a large boulder. We banked our floats as I followed my older brother onto shore. The bank is worn from wear, a tattered dingy rope gently swayed in the wind, with 4 simple knots strategically placed up its length. Its long length was tied high up into a tree that jetted out over the water.Several short planks were nailed into the trunk as crude steps on its leaning body. My brother’s eyes sparkled with mischief and adventure as he grabbed the rope and began the climb up the trunk. His lithe 15 year old body scaling the makeshift steps with ease. As he reaches the uppermost plank, my heart beats a little faster. The water is clear and deep as he hucks himself off the plank without a care in the world, the rope swinging out wide – he lets out a whoop of joy, releases the rope, and plunges into the waters depths. His joy and triumph are infectious. 

My brother has always been like this, looking for adventure, riding the line of adrenaline and danger. Just watching him, I am terrified and simultaneously intrigued. I want to be like him, fearless and sure. I want to trust my body the same way he can, and reap the same rewards I see reflecting in his eyes and toothy grin. But I’m scared. What if I fall out of the tree?What if I let go too soon and smash into the bank? What if I can’t hold myself up? These thoughts race through my mind, my heart thumping in my chest. As my older cousin follows in his footsteps, scaling the tree and jumping with confidence, I watch, cheering him on. It is only when my younger cousin steps up to the tree and she begins to climb that the chants inside my head change. My fears of what could happen evolve into dares. My mind says I can’t be the only one NOT to jump. My thoughts begin taunt me, “don’t be a baby.” “Go on, do it.” “If she can do it, you can do it.” 

Slowly, I steel my resolve and grab the swaying rope. It is rough in my hands as I yank on the uppermost knot, testing my strength and its strength, as if I could somehow sense if the rope were going to break beforehand. The planks are sturdy beneath my feet as I begin my slow ascent until I reach the uppermost perch, wrapping an arm around the tree for support while holding the rope in my other hand. It seems so much higher up here that it did down below. I take a few deep breaths and let go of the tree to grab the rope with both hands and I stand there. I stand there as minutes stretch on, my legs and arms trembling, not with exertion but adrenaline. This is too much, I can’t do this I think to myself. My brother and my cousins have been hollering words of encouragement but as the minutes tick on, the encouragement turns into something more forceful. Demands that I jump, taunts that I’m chicken, double dog dares for me to take the leap. 

After what feels like an eternity, my limbs jellied, my mind scrambled, and my resolve crumbling, everything comes to a point of no return. I stand on the precipice, flex my muscles, grab the top knot with both my hands, and jump. The world shoots past me as I first fall and then swing out over the water. At the highest point of my arc I let go. Nothing is in focus, everything is just a sensation I plunge into the cool water. It feels like my whole body is exhaling as I sink deeper and then just as fast find my head popping above the surface, triumph and relief written radiating off of me, the newest initiate to the order of the river rope swing.

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Abby is an intuitive bodyworker, and Licensed Massage Therapist, from a family of storytellers. She is drawn to the essence-of a story, of a belief, of all that we are and how that is expressed through our human experience. Click below to learn more about Abby's bodywork.

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