When I was twelve I thought it was a good idea to swing from a long vine that was hanging from a tree at the bottom of a ravine on a cold winter night. Some friends of mine and I during the summer months had done this many times. We would scale down the steep slope, retrieve the vine, carry it back up to the top and jump while holding on tight. At its highest point the individual would be 40 or 50 feet in the air. This particular night the cold temperature had frozen the vine to a brittle state, rendering it susceptible to breaking. That's just what it did as I held the vine, it couldn't handle the weight of my 12 year old structure. Unfortunately the vine waited until I was suspended about 30 feet above the ground for it to break. Luckily I was able to break my fall with my left arm, and luckily I landed on some bricks instead of the soft snow covered ground. In the end I had a fractured left arm and a large gash on my forehead which required 13 stitches.
Sometimes it seems like I'm always grabbing onto vines, swinging even though the danger seems obvious. They don't all break, but many of them do. The trick is to try to judge the sturdiness of the vine before the leap - that's the hard part.
I'm thankful for all the vines I've swung on - even the ones that broke...
Extended metaphor over.
Go with joy.