Flying dreams can seem so real that it is hard to believe that it's not really possible to fly. I can recall trying, as a child, several ideas I received from my dreams about how to create takeoff into flight. I ran as fast as I could and jumped into the air. I swung on ropes. I once stood up on the roof and then, fortunately, aborted that plan. I practiced with a pogo stick, jumping up and down, with each jump getting a little higher. As hard as I worked at it, I tired out before achieving significant liftoff. Today, I watch kids having an easier time trying essentially the same strategy on a trampoline.

Although your preferences might lean toward sky diving, I believe that of the various approaches to simulating flight, the most dazzling is trapeze acrobatics. Perhaps you remember the song lyrics and who it was who could "fly through the air with the greatest of ease." Maybe you saw the movie, Trapeze, with Burt Lancaster. Either could have stimulated your imagination about what it might be like to fly and turn somersaults in the air.

Now you can find out, indirectly, that is. Sam Keen, known to some of our readers through his previous books (e.g., Fire in the Belly) took trapeze lessons, and as a bonus to his arial thrills, he got another book out of it: Learning to Fly: Trapeze – Reflections on Fear, Trust, and the Joy of Letting Go (Broadway Books). He proved that it is possible to go and have great fun – an adventure – and actually derive some spiritual growth, share the resulting insights with others, and get paid for doing so. That's quite a combination, and in itself a close approximation to the ease and grace of living that flying suggests.

He provides plenty of the details concerning the amazing art and demanding craft of the trapeze and discovers within them principles for living. Some are predictable: Fear can be a friend, but we have to learn how to channel it so that it serves the goal rather than blockades it. Trying to figure it out in the mind doesn't work. You have to "get out of your head" and let the instincts of the body take over. Some insights are less predictable. Keen's meditation on the dance between the people on the trapeze brings home the important truth that spirituality requires our attention to the external world—to others—and a readiness to harmonize ourselves with the surprises that others bring us.

My favorite section of the book dealt with the fear of falling. In the trapeze arena, performers work with a safety net. Students learn how to fall safely, how to hit the net, how to relax, and how to roll with the punches. Nevertheless, fear of falling can be an obstacle to the grace needed to let go into flight. I remember, in my own case while learning ice skating, how the fear of falling kept me stiff. I could not allow my body its natural tendency to lean into the curves, for fear of falling. It was only after I became good at falling that I was able to let go fully into the wisdom of the skates.

Fear of making mistakes is a stumbling block for most of us. I am not surprised to see it in the classroom, where people anticipate being evaluated by the teacher. This sense of hesitancy crops up even in totally risk-free situations, such as singing out loud. There seems to be, especially among grown-ups, a well-trained caution, an inner security guard that is ever vigilant. Sometimes you have to get into the long running start of a carefree, fun attitude in order to really let yourself go into the freedom that is available to the faithful.

Not all of us will be as lucky as Sam Keen to have a trapeze teach you how to let your spirits soar. Fortunately, there are plenty of other opportunities.