I just finished reading The Places That Scare You by Buddhist teacher Pema Chodrὂn. A good friend mailed it to me after I discovered last December that my cancer had returned and had almost eaten through my upper right arm. The pain beforehand had been excruciating (who knew bones could feel?!), and I guess she thought I was so scared for my future that I wouldn’t even have the courage to buy that book! What a Godsend though!
I invite you, Buddhist or otherwise, to read the book. It offers very practical exercises for encouraging us to start facing our fears and then provides the tools to proceed working towards, or getting in touch with, our inner peace and innate goodness. Oh yes, it’s easier to distract yourself, or drug or numb yourself, or run away, or stick your head in the sand (I’ve tried all of these and more), but these just won’t cure the problem—the gnawing in your gut, the throbbing of your heart, the incessant worrying…. These tools, tried and true by many for thousands of years, just might help.
When I moved out to Utah to be with my wonderful adult children, Chelsea and Steve, three months ago from Virginia Beach, I experienced many anxiety attacks the first few weeks, which continue to sneak up on me at unexpected times. But I am determined to live out the rest of my life with courage and adventure more than my habitual fear, so when Chel and Steve invited me to go mountain biking with them, I made myself respond, “Uh…ok.” Steve said he had a tandem side-by-side mountain bike that Chelsea and I could ride—very stable, low to the ground and safe, he affirmed, knowing I was terrified of torqueing my arm with the 6-inch-long steel spike holding the bone together. “OK, I guess,” I nodded, with a bit more enthusiasm.
What he didn’t tell me is that Chelsea and ONLY Chelsea would have control of the bike’s steering and brakes! I could only pedal!
This was not OK. I’m a type A personality. I have been a control freak my whole life, of course, never mind that it’s my illusion of control that helped me have the illusion of safety. And now the little tyke that I taught to ride a bike at age 4 was going to have sole control of my life on that tandem?! No way.
Our maiden voyage out of the driveway of the National Abilities Center in Park City, down the sloping mountainside, found me screaming, “Stop, Chelsea—Slow down!!!! Eeek!” as we took off at quite a clip while she tested out the steering mechanism, careening haphazardly from side to side. (I’m sure Chelsea was getting a secret thrill from scaring to her mom to death.)
But it became crystal clear, friends. This is what my life is about right now: TRUST. Trusting life, trusting God to have my good and flourishing at heart; yes, even trusting my 32-year-old daughter on that mountain bike with my life. I kept telling myself to “breathe” consciously and deeply, the Buddhist practice, and when bugs weren’t flying into my eyes or mouth, I made some progress at quieting my anxiety. Then I actually began to enjoy the fresh air and the beautiful mountainside views, the little flowers of sage and yellow on the path, smiling and waving at folks we passed on the narrow path, at least, when I could release my steel grip on the handlebars (remember, they didn’t steer one bit).
We got back up the hill to the center and I must admit I was quite proud of myself. I faced my fear! I thought triumphantly. I did a new thing! I risked. I succeeded, with Chelsea’s help, of course.
To make a long story short, Chelsea and I just finished the Summit Challenge held by the NAC August 27, riding 16 miles of flat and often thigh-crunching, uphill terrain. We made a few fun pit stops along the way, saw children along the course holding up signs they had made: “Go the distance!” “You can do it!” “Good job!” It was so inspiring to see these strangers cheering us on in my first real effort to face my fear of something new, physical and strenuous—physically, mentally and emotionally. A few inner voice piped up, saying that I’m too old, too weak, too cowardly… HUSH! So in about two hours--
We did it! We succeeded in crossing the finish line, folks cheering us all around. All because I am starting to live out Eleanor Roosevelt’s recipe for courage-building: face a fear a day. “You gain strength courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, “I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.” You must do that thing you think you cannot do.” Thank you, Eleanor!
So, friends, whether it’s your fear of admitting you were wrong (to someone else or to yourself) and starting over, or asking someone’s forgiveness, or inviting that secret person you’ve admired to have dinner with you—choose one fear a day or a week, and as Nike’s slogan shouts: “Just do it!”
Here are two more gems of Eleanor’s to help you take a risk: “Learn from the mistakes of others. You can’t live long enough to make them all yourself.” J And “I believe that anyone can conquer fear by doing the things he [sic] fears to do….” And then get out there: no guarantees except that when you start facing your fears, you’ll be living a more amazing and joy-filled life!
