Letting Go of Fear & Stepping Off the Platform

Last week at my family reunion I had the opportunity to ride a zip line for the first time in my life.

Relatives of all ages, sizes and fitness levels were zipping down the hill. I was eager to try this adventure.

With my zip line harness and hard hat in place, I  climbed up a tree, hand-over-hand up the spikes  until I reached the zip line platform. A man at the top attached my harness to the zip line, offered his hand as I stepped onto the platform and told me to step off whenever I was ready.

I looked down below. And then I froze.

What the heck was I doing? Why did I think I could muster the courage to step off the platform into nothing but air? Would the line hold me? What if something went wrong?

Then I took a few deep breaths, just like Jeanie, my dragon boat coach, has taught me to do before a race.

In the seconds it took to breathe deeply, I began to think clearly. I remembered I wasn't the same fearful woman I had been two years earlier.

Now I'm all about being brave and trying new experiences. I've tried kayaking, SUP (stand up paddleboard) and snowshoeing. Three times a week I paddle a dragon boat with the Mighty Women Paddling Club. I've exercised regularly, made better food choices and have lost 45 pounds so far. In the process, I've gained confidence. But I still face fearful situations.

Earlier that morning I'd been swimming in the lake with cousins and siblings when I'd found the courage to climb up the diving board ladder and forced myself to jump off the diving board--something I had never been able to do. I jumped multiple times to convince myself I'd finally conquered my diving board fear.

Yet here I was, standing on the zip line platform and paralyzed with fear. I looked down. This was a LOT higher than the diving board. But I had a secure harness to keep me from falling. It was safe.

Taking some more deep breaths, I told myself, "You can do this."

I stepped off the platform--and began zipping through the air. Exhilarating! True, I screamed like a girl all the way down the hill, but I kept my eyes open and enjoyed the ride.

What fears are holding you back from stepping off the platform and experiencing your next adventure? Let go of your fear. Take some deep breaths. And then step off the platform. That first step is a doozy, but what a ride awaits you!

For my next adventure I'm considering windsurfing lessons.

A New Year: Paddling into Unchartered Waters & Joy

Family. Friends. Faith. Experience.

These four simple words have helped make me who I am at this spot in the river, this place where I am paddling my own canoe.

Although a strong current threatens to steer me off course and perhaps to capsize me, I am not afraid. How can I fear what lies ahead when I glance behind me and see the long, hard miles I already have paddled?

Throughout my journey, I often have bolstered my spirits with a favorite Louisa May Alcott quote:"I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship." Let me paraphrase Louisa: I am learning how to paddle my own canoe.

The unwavering support of my extended family and my circle of friends has given me the courage and strength to continue paddling, even when I couldn't see around the bend in the river and the obstacles ahead.

In hindsight, how grateful I am that I couldn't see the obstacles. Had I known I would lose my job and my home within a two-month period, would I have found the sheer determination to safely paddle through these tumultuous rapids in order to reach the calmer water just beyond the bend in the river?

If I could foresee that one week before Christmas, with the help of so many dear family and friends, I would have to downsize from a three-story house to a one-bedroom apartment and to give away a large portion of my worldly possessions, could I have kept on the course without wavering?

The last 18 months of my life's journey have been fraught with difficult obstacles: Divorce. Being laid off from my job. Then, in the midst of a depressed real estate market, having to sell my house quickly before it went into a short sale and damaged my credit. And in a short span of time, both of my young adult children moved out and left me an empty-nester with only a fussy cat to keep me company.

In December, I faced the roughest rapids, and somehow, I made it through to calmer waters.

Now it's January. I have let go of my old life and am settling into this new one. I have mourned the loss of my marriage, my job, my house, and my children's childhoods. The latter passed much, much too quickly.

In this new chapter, I am learning to embrace simplicity, but I do not pretend to be gallant about it. This is not prayerfully chosen voluntary simplicity as practiced by Quakers. On the contrary. I am a woman who collects antiques, vintage hats and ephemera and goes weak in the knees at estate sales. Mine was completely involuntary simplicity. It wasn't painless or pious, but it was for the best.

The surprising result of having to let go of so much so quickly is that now I have room in my heart to find joy in simple pleasures: a cup of tea with a friend, an inspiring walk along the Columbia River, a song that lifts my spirits, finding a healthy recipe as I begin my journey of mindful eating and deliberate exercise.

Another welcome surprise has been the resurgence of my faith after a long, dry spell. Although I lost a good deal, I gained much more.

Here I am, on the other side of the rapids, still paddling my canoe. I can't wait to see what adventures lie just around the bend in the river.