An exercise that Morrie had his students did during his course.
On this day, Morrie says he has an exercise for us to try. We
are to stand, facing away from our classmates, and fall backwards, 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 wearing 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 of 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 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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