Falling.
For so many, it is a feeling they reject. For them, falling isn’t natural or right; it is a mistake. It is something that happens when they mess up or can’t react in time. Yet go ahead and ask them to jump or run and they’ll do it. But to jump or run, you have to fall, if even only for a moment. So why do they hate falling when they will willingly do so? Well, it is all a matter of control. A pony will jump, because it is their choice and they believe they are in control.
However, the thing I’ve realized is, the more you think you’re in control, the less you actually are. You don’t plan to trip, nor do you plan to stumble, but so many are still afraid of falling. Once you understand you control nothing, you will no longer fear falling. It becomes something to avoid, yes, but you can actually use it.
The wind tore past me as I plummeted towards the ground, my wings held loosely against my sides. Though I fell facing the sky, my eyes were closed and I saw nothing. However, I felt everything: the sun against my coat, the currents and eddies of the light breeze, and the lift from the updraft dancing around the barbs of my feathers. I could understand the howling in my ears, my speed gifting the air a voice. It spoke of pity and joy, love and hatred.
And it spoke of the void.
The end of a life; perhaps the start of something new. Something dark and sinister, yet offering peace and a sanctuary from the harm the world would inflict on you. Regardless of what existed beyond, fear stood as the barrier. Fear of losing everything you hold dear: fear of the unknown. Fear of falling. Anything which draws breath holds that fear in their heart, even the bravest and most amazing of ponies.
Even me: the one and only Rainbow Dash.
I open my wings and brace against the rush of air. Sweat is torn away from my face by the wind as I change my heading. Beneath me, the water ripples in my wake, glimmering against the glare of the sun. I slow down, coming in for a running landing at the lake edge. A perfect landing if I do say so myself, but not a perfect run. I came in too high for the trick to work. The turn needed to come later. I needed to be so close to the water I could practically touch it.
Maybe I should just stop for the day. I wish I could say third time’s the charm, but I can’t. Eighth time is definitely not the charm either. Perhaps with a fresh head and fresh wings I’d pull it off. With my luck though, chances are I’d also lose the rhythm and it would take another few runs tomorrow to get it back again. No, if I was going to get it, I was going to get it today. This is something I’m not putting off till later. My wings open, and I climb back into the sky.
Practicing requires concentration, but also gives you time to think. And with how much flying I do, I have way more than enough time. I’m actually smarter than most ponies give me credit for. Sure, I’ll never be as big an egghead as Twi, but just giving yourself a chance to think is something that so many don’t. Most ponies think I’m nothing more than a jock: a pegasus who goes fast because that’s the only thing she knows how to do. Some ponies think I just fly to satisfy my ego. They couldn’t be more wrong, but why bother correcting them when I can just show them and wipe those smug looks off their faces?
...
Alright, so maybe it does have to do a little with my ego, but not as much as you think, and not in the same way. It’s not that I have an inflated opinion of myself, but rather that I am proud of my work. I’ve spent years learning to fly and getting into the shape I’m in today. None of it was easy. It didn’t matter the weather; I would be out flying in spite of rain, wind or sleet. In truth, I’m no more egotistical than Applejack is about her apples. I just might have a bit of a problem letting my ego bleed over into other things. Anyways, everypony has a reason for doing, even me. My ego may be one of the reasons I fly, but it is not the reason. You see...
Um, hold onto that thought for a second. It’s time to give this trick another try.
Once again, I fall. The wind begins as a murmur, and grows to a scream. This time, I keep my wings tucked against my side. I want the speed and I need the velocity. The water rushes up to meet me like family I haven’t seen in decades. Closer... Closer...
Dammi–
...
Ow.
Don’t believe anyone trying to tell you water is soft; it isn’t. Fact, I think I would rather crash into the ground, because at least you have the grass and the give of the soil.
Yeah, I crashed, big deal. I pulled up too late from the dive and clipped the water. I crash all the time, like once a day at least. Did you know there’s a right way to crash? It’s the first thing they teach you in flight school. You always tuck your wings before you hit. A broken wing hurts far more than hitting the ground just a little bit faster. Still, I have to say, had I known the water was this cool, I might have crashed a bit sooner. Forget spas or a massage; this was what I needed. Even if crashing was a bit of a problem for me, nothing beats floating on your back after a hard workout.
Speaking of problems, you want to know about a problem which bothers me so much? Oh, trust me, some of Pinkie’s and Rarity’s shenanigans are high on that list, but those aren’t it. This one takes the cake by a mile, right at the top. It’s two words that I see so many ponies use for all the wrong reasons. Want to know what they are?
“Good enough."
How the hay can anything be good enough?! Good enough for what? Somepony else? Your friends? Yourself? That’s the real problem: when you let something become good enough for yourself. Goals should never be lowered and the only time you should even use “good enough” is when it’s also your best. I just don’t understand how you’d be willing to let yourself down like that. If you are going to do something, at least have the decency to do it right.
Everyday I watch Scootaloo buzz around town on her scooter, dreaming of being able to soar through the clouds. She already can move faster than some pegasi can fly, but that’s not good enough for her. Humor me for a second, but what would happen if one day she decided it was? The answer is simple: she would never get to fly and her dreams would be gone. I know how much she looks up to me, and it just makes me so mad to think that there are ponies out there telling her to give up. For crying out loud, some doctors told her she might never fly! But to her, they’re just noise. She will fly one day, not because it’s her right, but because she refuses to give up on her dream and settle for just “good enough”.
So why do we settle for it as we get older?
Somewhere, when we reach a certain point in our lives, we stop chasing our dreams. We settle into ours lives of “good enough” and “maybe later,” and content ourselves with what we have. I’ve seen it in my friends and my family over and over again. Sure, maybe someday I’ll be the same way, but it won’t be from lack of trying. The only thing that will keep me from the sky is if I was to lose my wings, but even then, I’d find a way. There is nothing I wouldn’t be able to accomplish if I put my mind to it, especially if I was willing to let my friends help.
That’s something I’ve learned too. I was always a brash little filly when I was younger, and I used to think I could do everything by myself. Sure I had a few friends, but I never let them get too close. Dad used to say I was my own mare, but I think I took it the wrong way. It was just so hard when I was seen by others as the rainbow-maned freak. Back then, it was just me. Then it became the two of us.
...
I miss her, I really, really miss her, more than I ever thought I would. You want to know my one true regret? The day I let Gilda fly away. I should have went after her, should have tried to stop her, but I just let her fly away. Some Element of Loyalty I am! Coming up through school, the bullies called me a freak or the famous “Rainbow Crash”. Then I met Gilda. Suddenly their taunts were bearable, and when they were bearable, they were beatable. We were inseparable in school, and meeting her had finally brought an end to the loneliness. There was nothing we couldn’t do and no challenge we couldn’t beat. Sadly, she moved away and I dropped out of flight school. Then years later, that day happened: the day I abandoned my friend.
Some nights I wake in a sweat, those final moments playing back in my head. How could I have not seen it? When she turns to leave at Pinkie’s party, I saw something I didn’t want to see. In fact, for the first time, I convinced myself I hadn’t. Tears. I saw tears welling in her eyes. The more I tried not to think about it, the more I couldn’t help it. What made it all the worse was what Twilight told me she wrote to the princess: “In the end, the difference between a false friend and the one who is true will surely come to light.”
I wanted to fly to Canterlot and tear that letter to shreds. There was only one false friend: me. Gilda practically clung to me the entire day, and I couldn’t even spare the thought to notice what was wrong with her. She didn’t want to talk, she just wanted to fly, but the Gilda I knew wasn’t like that unless something was wrong. For us, flying was a way to clear our heads and spend some time together doing what we love. She lashed out at my friends, sure, and that was her problem, but I’ve done worse. I did much worse. One of these days, I am going to track her down and take back what I said. I don’t care if it takes weeks or even months; the one thing I don’t want to leave behind are regrets.
I suppose...I suppose in a way, it’s our regrets and failures that shape us, not our triumphs and victories. Don’t get me wrong, I love winning just as much as I love happy endings, but they don’t have the same effect. Truth is, you don’t learn how to fly in one go; you learn to fly by making mistakes. When I complete a trick, all I know is how I can do the trick again. When I mess up, in addition to learning how not to do the trick, I learn what the thing that messed me up does.
Ughhh.
Yeah, so maybe that isn’t the best comparison. The point I’m trying to make, though, is we learn from our mistakes while we just glide off what goes right. Those mistakes will always put you back on the right track, but gliding can bring you where you don’t want to be. Boundaries aren’t always so clear cut as mountains (they hurt a lot by the way), and you can run into them without realizing it and keep on flying past. I wish I could say that it’s never happened to me, because one time when it did, it hurt someone I cared about.
When I was young, I lived near the middle of Cloudsdale. It was great! There was so much to do and so much to see. It makes me wonder why I ended up in such a quiet place like Ponyville. Anyway, my dad would warn me not to play in the street, but I didn’t listen. You see, the first time I did, I was careful. The next few times I was less and less concerned. Nothing had happened to me, so obviously dad must have been on about nothing.
One day, I darted back into the house to ask him something. When he realized I had been playing on the street, like I had promised not to, he got angry. We argued, then I flew out of the house in a huff. I went straight into the path of a moving carriage going full tilt. Stunned, I didn’t react till it was too late. My dad, on the other hoof, reacted the moment he saw me.
There is nothing worse than seeing someone you love get hurt, let alone in a hospital, especially when you are responsible. When dad saved me, he threw himself in front of the carriage. His left wing was broken, along with his foreleg. Watching him lie there, sleeping, I felt so guilty I felt sick. Flying was supposed to be something fun and beautiful, but I had hurt him. He told me not to be so reckless, and I went and broke his trust. For a while, I thought about giving up flying. Even if I love it, I was not going to do something that hurts others. I just don’t need things like that weighing on my conscience. Obviously I never quit, but because of what I learned, I never had to feel that guilt again.
Ok, enough rest, and enough of this sappy reminiscing. How about I give this trick one more try and explain what I was trying to say earlier? Back up I go.
It’s weird thinking about why I fly, sort of like thinking about why I breathe. For me, it just seems so right, so instinctual. Ever since I took to the skies as a filly, I’ve felt right at home. The sky is like a friend...No, it’s like family to me. It’s not a pegasus thing, I know plenty of others who aren’t like me, so what is it? I think...
I think I’ve finally figured it out.
For a moment before I throw myself towards the ground, I pause take a look at the world around me. Before all else, the sky is beauty. Everything is stretched out before me like a painting, from the clouds to the dancing winds. And then I give in.
Flying is who I am, not what I do. With each stroke of my wings, I duel the sky, tempting it as it tempts me. Every time I think I understand, it shows me something new. Sometimes it’s cruel, but it’s also generous. When I fly, nothing else matters but me and the sky. My problems are left behind on the ground below, but not forgotten. I bring nothing to our fights save my body and will, and I leave nothing behind. I can create from nothing.
The moment is coming closer; I can feel it now. My pounding heart feels it, my ragged breaths anticipate it. No, I need more speed, falling isn’t enough. Each flap of my wings brings me closer. The air is roaring its warning, because at this speed, if I mess up, I won’t get another chance. It brings a smile to my face, that; would it really be that bad? I’d die doing what I love, giving it my all. Could I ask for anything more? Transcending my fear, I understand the perfection I seek.
Five seconds now, and I feel the world slow around me. It’s moments like these that I only can dream of. The aches in my body transform, bringing about a clarity that washes the world in wonder. Four seconds. Each breath brings sends a jolt of pure exhilaration through my body. My heart is pounding at a fearful pace, giving an accompaniment to my joy. Three... no, two seconds. I see it, I see the point. It’s beautiful. One sec–
It’s not thought, it’s instinct. I feel my wings flare as if I am a visitor in my body. My vision dims as forces try to tear my sight away, but I hold.
...
Holy horsefeathers, I did it!
I can feel my smile threaten to tear apart my face, and see the reflection of my expression in the water. I laugh victoriously, the sound torn away by my speed. Behind me, water rises to dance with a fierce vigor, pulled along by the vacuum I create. As it follows me, I leave behind a trail of sparkling mist which shines with all the colours of the rainbow. When I finally land atop a cloud, I look up and gaze at what I just created in the sky: my canvas.
The sky doesn’t judge, nor does it favour. Everything I want, I have to earn. It will never accept good enough, for I can never overcome it. Behind each new trick is something more to learn. Yet there are no limits enforced or expectations piled atop of me, just my dreams laid bare. I can choose to be an inspiration, somepony for others to aspire to, just because it gives me the chance. And up here, I am never alone, for no matter where I go, the sky remains. The rain might batter me and the wind my claw at my coat, but I will remain, returning the loyalty it has shown me.
So sure, ponies might call me a lot of names. To them, I might be a jock, or their role model. Maybe I’m a freak, or maybe I’m a friend. I’ve come to realize it doesn’t matter what they call me, because who I am will never change. My life isn’t built around a lie or atop the dreams of others. I will stand strong and be that anchor for others to cling to. For above all else, I am Rainbow Dash.
And you can’t take the sky from me.
