On this day, Morrie
says that he has an exercise for us to try. We are to stand, facing away from
our classmates, and fall backward, relying on another student to catch us. Most
of us are uncomfortable with this, and we cannot let go for more than a few
inches before stopping ourselves. We laugh in embarrassment.
Finally, one
student, a thin, quiet, dark-haired girl whom I notice almost always wears
bulky, white fisherman sweaters, crosses her arms over her chest, closes her
eyes, leans back, and does not flinch, like one of those Lipton tea commercials
where the model splashes into the pool.
For a moment, I am
sure she is going to thump on the floor. At the last instant, her assigned
partner grabs her head and shoulders and yanks her up harshly.
“Whoa!” several
students yell. Some clap. Morrie finally smiles. “You see”, he says to the
girl, “you closed your eyes. That was the difference. Sometimes you cannot
believe what you see. You have to believe what you feel. And if you are ever
going to have other people trust you, you must feel that you can trust them too
– even when you're in the dark. Even when you're falling."
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