"Soar, eat ether, see what has never been seen; depart, be lost, But climb"

This excerpt from a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay holds multiple layers of meaning for me. The first is that it captures how I want to live life and some of the feelings that life evokes.

"Soar, eat ether" - When I ski or sail, I do feel that I soar. Freedom and exhileration powered by nature. This is a big feeling of joy for me and just saying the words helps me feel that sense of lightness.

"See what has never been seen; depart" - I am not a pioneer in the conventional sense. I am not journeying to undiscovered new lands in a covered wagon, but what I am doing is discovering my life, seeing things in a new way each day. Some days, the revelation is small like yesterday when my dog escaped the yard and some children brought him home. They called him "Puff"and their reluctance to leave because they were having fun wth him, made me appreciate his exuberance in a new way. Other days, the insight is larger and takes time to unfold. And then "depart" - I believe in not clinging to one place, one plateau , one insight but departing for the next.

"Be lost" - This phrase comforts me when I am feeling overwhelmed. It's different than being stuck, I am still moving, but I can just "be lost". That's okay and these two small words have provided tremendous solace and guidance over the past few years

"But, Climb" - this phrase makes my heart beat faster and makes me want to get up and go. You can't soar standing with your feet on the ground (much as I appreciate the sensation of being fully grounded). By being up, I can soar again. And so, climbing takes me full circle back to joy.

The words also capture the essence of the four seasons. Soaring and eating ether evoke summer to me. There is a carefree abundance and freedom inherent in these words that characterizes summer. Being lost is winter. There's not much warmth or sustenance but with time, something new will emerge. Seeing new things is spring and emergence. Fall is departing. The abundance of summer is finished and the seeds for the next cycle are sown.

So, here I am at the end of summer. It has been a good summer. I've travelled, I've climbed, I've body-surfed, I've kayaked, I've lazed in the sun, I've spent time with friends and made new friends. Time to leave this place and move on to Fall. No matter what the season, Climb. "Sic itur ad astra"- Virgil. Thus do we reach for the stars.

Namaste.

Song clips

Music helps me to feel. Here's a sampling of some lyrics that have stuck with me (the criteria being at least two years and, in the case of a couple, nearly thirty five years).

"I've got a smile on my face, I've got four walls around me, The sun in the sky, the water surrounds me, I'll win now but sometimes I'll lose, I've been battered, but I'll never bruise, it's not so bad... And I say way-hey-hey, it's just an ordinary day and it's all your state of mind. At the end of the day, you've still got to say, it's all right." - Great Big Sea

"It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine"-REM

"Here comes the sun..."- Beatles

"What if what you do to survive kills the things you love, Fear's a dangerous thing" - Bruce Springsteen

"She had diamonds on the inside" -Ben Harper

"Hey somewhere, you threw your fear into the Sea of No Cares" - Great Big Sea

"It's the first snow of the year, guess it happens once a year, oh glory and the dogs in the neighborhood are going crazy and even the old ones that are usually lazy"- Hawksley Workman

"I used to live in a darkened room, had a face of stone, and a heart of gloom, lost my hope, I was so far gone, cryin all my tears with the curtains drawn, I didn't know until my soul broke free, I've got these angels watching over me, Oh yeah watch me go, I'm a happy girl, Everybody knows that the sweetest thing that you'll ever see in the whole wide world is a happy girl Oh,yeah oh,yeah I 'm a happy girl"-Beth Neilson Chapman

I'm sure that as soon as I press "publish post", some new lyrics will enter my head (please not, "Sunshine on my Shoulders" - John Denver).

Namaste

My lizard and my bank

Yesterday afternoon, I returned to the house to find the voice message light blinking on my phone. I wasn't expecting any calls so I was curious as I picked up the handset. "Hello, this is Lorraine calling from your bank...". That was enough. I pressed 7 to delete and the call was erased. My primitive, reptilian lizard brain had taken over.

I felt fear when I heard that disembodied voice from the bank and sure enough, my instincts kicked in and I avoided danger by deleting the message. In the milliseconds before I'd deleted the call, I'd just felt panic. In the seconds afterwards, I thought "oh no, there was a problem with my mortgage payment. No, that can't be. There's plenty of money in the account". I then thought "oh, have I been late paying my credit card? No, I distinctly remember paying the bill on August 18". And then, finally,"I wonder what she was calling about".

My rational brain can be just that - rational - so I remembered a feature on my phone that displays the name and telephone number of missed calls. I scrolled down and found the direct line to the bank. It was late in the day so I resolved to call Lorraine in the morning and see why she had phoned.

I called Lorraine at the bank this morning and she had just telephoned to see if I needed any additions or changes to my services. She was surprised and grateful that I had called her back, and said so. It was actually a very pleasant encounter.

When I was listening to that brief fragment of Lorraine's voice message, my jaw clenched, my chest tightened and my breathing became shallow. Those feelings of stress gradually dissipated but I felt slightly uneasy until I worked the remnants out at the climbing gym later that night. When I finished the live conversation with Lorraine this morning, I felt light, able to breathe and rewarded myself by going for a walk with my dog.

Martha Beck suggests naming your inner lizard and calming it down. I've just named my lizard. She's called Lorraine and, in the future, whenever I feel that primitive irrational fear, I will try to think of lightness, breath and a pleasant real person.

Fear of not falling - Again (?)!

Sometimes learning goes in a spiral. You unpeel one layer and there is another. That's what's going on for me in terms of "fear of not falling". I opened a book to read last night. It was The Alchemist by Paulo Coehlo. I read a lot so it is somewhat surprising that I haven't read it yet. I am meant to read it now. I read the introduction and stopped. There was that concept "fear of not falling" again. Not in those words, but there it was.

Essentially the fear of not falling is the fear of success, or to quote Paulo Coehlo,'The mere possibility of getting what we want fills the soul of the ordinary person with guilt. We look around at all those who have failed to get what they want and feel that we do not deserve to get what we want either. We forget about all the obstacles we overcame, all the suffering we endured, all the things we had to give up in order to get this far. I have known a lot of people who, when their personal calling was within their grasp, went on to commit a series of stupid mistakes and never reached their goal - when it was only a step away".

I get what "fear of not falling" is and my intention is never again not to make that last climbing move when the finish is in my grasp, not to fall out of a pose in yoga without really pushing to my personal edge, not to think I'm too old or not good enough. What I want to do is "soar, eat ether, see what has never been seen, depart, be lost, but climb" - Edna St.Vincent Millay.

At Lake Louise

Playing in Mud
I was at Lake Louise rock climbing this weekend. Lake Louise is a special places for me. The highlight this weekend occurred as we were returning from the back of the lake to the Chateau. The lake is at its lowest depth this time of the year and, for the first time that I'd ever been there, two people were walking in the mud on its remote edge. Actually, they weren't walking; they were playing. The bottom must have been gooey because they would put one foot in and pull it out slowly and high. Sometimes they hopped up and down, other times they walked with exaggerated motions. I smiled as I watched them play. Later, I thought that if I smiled when watching them play, then others would too, and if we all played more, more people would smile.

Rock climbing at Lake Louise
I started rock climbing because I thought climbing would help me trust other people more. Climbing has helped me learn to trust myself more. After climbing at an indoor gym for about ten months, I signed up for a two-day beginner course through an outdoors-based organization. The first day we went to a very easy crag and I climbed on ropes set by the guides. The second day, we went to the back of Lake Louise. The guides set up the ropes and I began to climb, initially quite confidently. I stopped at one point and the guide called up, “What’s going on there?” I replied, “I’m scared and I don’t know why.” He asked me to look where I was. I noticed that I had climbed off route and one of the clips was keeping me from climbing higher. The only way back on route was to climb down or take a little dipping fall. My legs were tired from tensing in one position while this dialogue went on, so I chose to fall. It was okay, but I was so spent that I decided not to climb higher. I sat on a log and watched the other climbers. I ate some lunch and drank some juice. The guide asked me if I wanted to try another route. I said no.

Fifteen or twenty minutes passed, and I realized that I wanted to climb and I wanted to complete a route that wasn’t bolted in but set by one of the guides using traditional (ie, removable) protection. I climbed up the rock face using the crack until I was nearly at the top of the route where an arête loomed. I tried the arête and fell. I tried again and again. I could feel the sun on my back and a sense of peace. Time stopped. I moved my feet an inch higher and reached again. Close. I inched up again and reached over the arête. I had completed the climb.

I climbed several more routes that day. I felt a deep happiness in my chest that night as I drove home through the mountains, into the foothills and then into prairie with the sky and clouds all around.

I was back climbing the same route this weekend, and it struck me just how powerful that first climb at Lake Louise was. I was scared and didn't know why. I had climbed off route, and was being held back unable to go further. This is how a lot of us feel when we've strayed from our North Star, when we're off our true route. We're scared and we don't know why. And...if we get back on route, we may still be scared when we take that dipping fall but the rewards are deep happiness. I'm not on-route consistently in life or when I climb, but when I'm way off route, I sure know how it feels now.

Fall Changes

My thoughts are a muddle today. I've got change on my mind and I am having difficulty sorting out what I'm feeling, so I decided to go to yoga. Usually as soon as I lie down on my yoga mat, my breathing evens out and I focus. Not today. I was lying on my mat waiting for class to begin and I twitched, adjusted, drank water, and sighed. Monkey brain, lizard brain, or (if you know my dog who is named after a ski racer) Bode brain - I had them all. I was definitely not grounded.

What happened next, surprised me. We started our first breathing exercise in yoga class. I was still distracted at first, but by the third pose, I felt a peace and certainty as I went into each pose. I stayed in all the balancing poses. I stretched my leg out when I usually can't. My mind and body were coming together and I was just feeling. I was no longer thinking about change. Then, I thought, "oh I'm not thinking" and, no surprise, I lost the flow. I lost the pace and the peace, and started thinking about change again.

So, for those of you, who are embarking on change, please know that I am thinking about you. Whether your change is moving to a new city, starting school again, having a baby, retiring, entering a new relationship, know that you will feel grounded again. Maybe not right away but soon enough, and with sunshine, love and a bit of water, you will be rooted and growing again.

Peace to you all, and especially to Nadia, as she heads to Kabul as a volunteer nurse.

A dream

I grew up living beside the water. My house was at the intersection of two rivers and beyond one river is a narrow strip of land - one street wide - and then the ocean. I spent a lot of time as a kid messing around in sailboats on the river and lots of time sailing, swimming and body surfing in the ocean.

I've lived in a landlocked province for over 26 years but the ocean is still with me. "Do you know a cure for me? Why yes, he said, I know a cure for everything. Salt water. Salt water? I asked him. Yes, he said, in one form or another, sweat, tears or the salt sea."- Isak Dinesen. I don't get much salt sea these days, though I search it out whenever I can, but I certainly get sweat and tears.

The ocean also provides me sustenance in my dreams. I think of one dream in particular when I feel a quiver of fear. I am alone in a small sailing dingy heading out to sea. A powerful huge wave is coming and I know that it will crash down on me unless I do something. In my dream, I turn the boat to face the wave and then somehow steer it under the wave, much like a swimmer dives under a wave to avoid its churn. I emerge on the other side of the wave and face the wind. All is quiet. The boat and I are both still.

This dream's metaphor works well for me. Face your fears (the wave coming crashing down) and then be still.

Namaste,
Ginny

Fear of not falling

I heard a song on the radio the other day. It was about the fear of not falling. The concept intrigues me and I have searched for the song and its lyrics on the web. I haven't found it yet but I will keep looking.

The fear of not falling...I know what the fear of falling is but what is the fear of not falling? I picture a child learning to walk. Oftentimes, walking is describing as a series of mini-falls from which we constantly recover our balance and stay upright. Certainly a child learning to walk doesn't suffer from a fear of falling. Kids go splat all the time. What if a toddler had a fear of not falling? Is that a fear of success? Would a child learn to walk with a fear of not falling?

I think both the fear of falling and the fear of not falling can inhibit us. I rock climb and definitely have a fear of falling. The fear manifests itself in different ways, usually when I about about 3/4 of the way up the wall at the gym. I can see the finish but am not there yet. The fear of falling can keep me clinging to the same holds until I say "take" and and am lowered down. The fear of falling can stimulate me to cheat and put my foot or hand on a non-route hold that makes the next move appear more stable.

To learn to make the next move, I need to try it without the "cheating" hand or foot hold. I might not shift balance fast enough and grasp the hold and fall off. I might try it with my body facing into the wall and then realize no, I need to turn my hips sideways into a backstep. I can practice these moves by falling in the safety of the climbing gym while I am on top rope belay. So when I'm climbing in the gym, the fear of falling is not really a factor.

The fear of not falling may be more real. Rock climbing, like a lot of life's pursuits, relies on integration of mind and body. My body may be able to do something but if my mind says no, I won't. Suprisingly (or not so), our minds often limit what we can achieve. If I don't fall while climbing that route, it means that I can do it. If I've done it once, I can do it again. Doing something (not falling) may be just as scary, if not more, than not doing something. So for me, the fear of falling and the fear of not falling are almost the same. They can stop me and the solution is to get out and DO. Break through each little fear moment by moment.

Here's an example relating to my mental challenge at the 3/4 point of the wall... I was doing a drill last year in which I was climbing blindfolded with my belayer directing me where to put my hands and my feet. I never knew know how far I was up on the wall, just that felt calm and centered without fear. I found each hold that my belayer described, sometimes circling with it with my foot or hand before I reached it but always getting the right one. I was in each moment and before I knew it, I was at the top of the wall. It was a fun climb.

And a word about the chasms I wrote about yesterday ...Personal chasms come in all shapes and sizes. It might require a leap to make a telephone call, try a new sport, change your job, let someone know you like them (whether by flirting, outright statement or a first kiss), challenge a co-worker, lose weight, hold a dissenting opinion, take a taxi, go back to school. The list goes on, as individual as we are and as changing as we are.

Fear into fun - What does that mean?

I'm a believer in play. Play is not just for kids but for all of us. It's one of the ways we learn. It's one of the ways we break through fear...and when we break through fear, we can achieve things that make us very happy.

Several years ago when I was feeling stifled in my marriage and in my work, I would escape to the mountains to ski. When I was skiing, I felt free and alive. I would return to the city and feel like I held my breath all week while I worked until I could return to the mountains. I wanted to change but I was afraid. Afraid of what, I couldn't tell you, but very afraid. One weekend, I was in a craft store in a mountain town and came across a small clay pot. It was painted shades of dusky blue with gold stars. On it was a phrase. ""As you go the way of life, you will see a great chasm. Jump. It is not as wide as you think" a bit of advice given to a young native at the time of his initiation - Joseph Campbell". Since that time, I have jumped over many chasms and I will continue jumping.

I have observed friends, and even people that I don't know, standing on one side of a chasm wanting to jump to the vital other side. I imagine that fear is stopping them and I have wanted to help them make that leap, which is often not that big. So, I am coaching people on this aspect of life, helping them move from fear into fun, from paralysis into motion. I am trained using the North Star approach which holds that each of us knows what we want deep inside of us; that we have an internal "north star" that guides us to claim the life we were meant to live. For someone like me, this is a leap but one I am meant to make.