“No monkeying around. No lion. The burden I am carrying is heavy.” (reading time 1:37)

It’s a zoo out there these days. And as cagey as I think I might be most of the time, it feels like I am deep in the jungle without a way out. The last three months have netted the following from all my efforts:

· My current clientele is less than it's been in a long time;

· My assets are drying up;

· Bentley and Me (I watched Marley and Me the other night, so easy on the grammar digs) are dealing with his Class 2 cancerous tumor;

· I am not seeing a clear path out of the woods, brier patch, maze, jungle;

· I'm finding more and more each day that most of the things I we seem to care about the most (money, security, etc.) aren't as important as we make them to be – this realization comes as a result of outwardly having them simultaneously removed from your life.

I am feeling the gravity of my accumulated burdens; lead weights dropped into the pockets of my already threadbare daypack. And, historically (this is the third time) I would have responded to such “heavy stuff” with guilt, anger, fear, victimization, futility and a dash of hopelessness.

But not this time. You see, the difference this time around has a lot to do with the 34- pound pack I lugged around on my shoulders for six hours the other day at the Nashville Zoo.

My 3 ½ year-old grandson, Kinley Corbin Collins, spent the day with his GranDude doing the zoo. We made believe we were fearless hunters protecting the animals (never too early to encourage social & environmental consciousness), explorers of new undiscovered worlds and the further exploits of the superhero Captain Bubblekiller. After getting over the “how the heck am I going fill up six hours with my grandson alone” jitters, I discovered that there is really no joy like that of sharing the heart, imagination and unconditional adoration of a young child. When he got tired, I carried him on my shoulders. When he got hungry we captured and devoured a cheese pizza (with a mustard-ketchup-salt-pepper concoction he mixed up for dipping). When he got hot we stood and drenched ourselves with the magic misting machine.

But the best part of the day was when we discovered the Jungle Gym.

Oh my gosh – it was huge, serendipitous, random and overall magical. After some momentary chasing each other rituals, we discovered the gargantuan, dangerous, child-eating beast: the corkscrew slide. Three-stories high. Enclosed slide. Expansion rope bridge entrance leading to a tall tower that led to the slide’s entry point.

“C’mon GranDude, let’s go up the tower to the slide.”

“Kinley, it looks like this is a ‘for kids only’ place. I think you are going to have to go do this alone.”

He hesitated, frowned momentarily considering the mammoth burden ahead of him and then blurted out, “I can do it GranDude.” And he did. He conquered crossing the swaying rope bridge, tackled the summit and finally reached the destination. It was his moment of truth. Standing, looking deep into the threatening jaws of the enclosed slide was something he had to confront; himself. He’d have to decide if he was going to step off the ledge. I waited below (it seemed like an hour) wondering what he was thinking and feeling, if he would take the plunge and step off into the unknowing darkness before him. I waited. Waited.

Kinley suddenly appeared, spilling his blonde radiance everywhere as he emerged from the green serpent’s mouth.

We high-fived, giggled and reveled in his conquest like drunken warriors.

“Again.” He defeated the monster eight more times .

So what? We all carry burdens, the heavy things of this world that can weigh us down and lead us to feeling like we cannot move another step; if we let them. We all face life’s scary beasts, the demons that can make us want to run, hide and cower in our hiding places until they go away; if we let them. We all have the chance to cross the shaky bridge, tackle the summit and consider stepping off and plunging into the jaws of our fears, the unknowing darkness before us; if we let them.

From watching and carrying my 34-pound grandson I learned that:

· The burdens of life’s things are only as heavy as you allow them be the things that burden your life;

· We stumble, fall and finally face the scary things we might be trying to run from, only to discover that, after going through the slide, there is sunlight and high-fives awaiting when you emerge;

· The greatest act of courage is not about whether you win or lose, fall or fly, succeed or fail; it’s all about stepping off the ledge.

Carry on.

For emphasis.

(b)