Hello Dearest Blog Followers,
I'm getting ready for my crack climbing in a few weeks, and as you might recall from an earlier post, this rock climbing trip is a metaphor for facing fears.
Well, just when I get to the place of the trip coming up, I suddenly discover a new one! How very exciting!
In my blog on Climbing as a Metaphor, I talk about how I metaphorically downclimbed to safety in a crisis situation, and that I'm standing at the base of the rock, wondering how I'll ever get to climbing again.
This trip, I've selected crack climbing, which uses hand and toe jams into crevices, a very different experience. My adventurous self is up for the challenge, until it occurs to me that I have no idea of how to self-rescue or down climb from a crack climb. This is accompanied by visions of the belayer beneath me dying of a heart attack, or me happily climbing along, until the rope above me snaps and I watch it sailing down past me as I hang there.
Sometimes having an active imagination decidedly does NOT serve me well.
So I'll put it back to the metaphor from which this whole adventure originates. Yes, I'm used to climbing, but I'm used to and know more traditional routes. I suspect that my morbid fears are the result of my taking the unfamiliar course. And really, it's not what I know about climbing, it's what I know about myself that matters.
My friends would laugh and tell me that they've never known me to take a familiar route and speculate that perhaps I'm allergic to them. They may well be right. I've got this believe that if some challenge is thrown my way, some insurmountable odds, then there's also a gift that comes in the form of overcoming it, if I'm open enough to it to see it.
Essentially, the question then becomes - Am I?
Where does the courage and will to move forward despite all of the odds come from, if not from my openness to the experience of something dramatically new?
One of my cousins sent me today a letter that was erroneously ascribed to a famous Latin American writer, but was, in fact, written by an obscure ventriloquist about his puppet. Despite the lack of fame, the ventriloquist wrote something quite beautiful. The part that sticks out in my mind was:
"I have learned that everybody wants to live at the top of the mountain without realizing that true happiness lies in the way we climb the slope." (Johnny Welch)
It makes me wonder if the way in which I've climbed the slope all of these years has been to always have an escape from disaster plan in the back of my head, and that the reason I've been more open to new experiences has been because I'm good at anticipating how to escape said experience should "new" suddenly be replaced with "dangerous."
Perhaps I am not The Gambler after all, but Houdini.
Now, there's a lot to be said for figuring out how to safely extract oneself from danger. But if that's become the course I take, then safety has replaced true happiness in my climb up the slope. So I've found another goal for myself this trip, it seems...
Showing posts with label fears. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fears. Show all posts
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The Evolution
I've been thinking of this as recently as five minutes ago, so I may as well make a blog out of it.
Who are we, really, at our core? And how do we define ourselves?
I believe it's where we stand in relationship to our fears.
Ah, now that I've said that last part, I realize this has been an ongoing internal dialogue I've had for many years.
When I am talking about where we stand in relationship to our fears, I'm not advocating a particular brand of courage, but of perception. I believe a majority of humanity operates from a place of fear based motivation. Fears can dictate and drive a great deal of what we do and the actions we take, which become the building blocks of how we define ourselves.
When a seed is planted, it must grow through dirt and manure in the direction of the sun. It's got to have it's bit of rain and available nutrients from the soil that it will need. The whole time that it's growing, in the most vulnerable stages of emerging from the hull it's in, it must grow through this darkness and muck, initially not actually seeing the sun until it emerges from however deep it's planted. How does it know what direction to grow in, or that the sun is there at all? I believe it's an act of faith embedded in its core. A subtle design within the seed that gives it the ability to grow in the proper direction.
Some years ago, a woman sent me three seeds, telling me not all of them, or any of them, might grow. Being the citified girl I am, this disheartened me greatly, as I had lived under the illusion that all seeds must grow. Not all seeds do. I don't think I ever planted those seeds, for fear none of them would take. More recently, I received 6 endangered seeds, carefully nurtured them all in the same conditions, only to watch one of them grow into a plant.
I think as people, we assume it's the environment that creates the conditions that allow us to grow, and frequently blame factors in the environment for when things don't go our way. That gives over way more power to externals than I feel comfortable giving, quite frankly. And, as my seed experiment taught me, all receiving the same environment, conditions and nurturance, only one actually grew. Darwin might talk about this in terms of survival of the fittest in the evolution of a species, but that's not my take on it. I think the seeds that don't have a fear of growing and a fondness and comfort for their hulls.
I picture the angst of the seed, buried under the dirt, wondering if the effort is actually worth it. Break free of the hull, and you have no shell to protect you. You can't ungrow. It's unknown territory, insofar as a seed might be concerned. Why grow in the direction of something you can't see from the outset? What's out there anyway that might remotely be worth the effort?
As a person, I've had my comfort in the hull, as it were. I know the lure it had, back in the day. I remember the amount of energy I invested in justifying my stagnation. It really takes just as much effort to justify not growing as it does to actually grow, perhaps more. Here are a few:
"Hulls are fine, and I'm fine as I am."
"Life's really overrated."
If we don't meet life on life's terms, we aren't living, just justifying a hull of a life. I can't speak for the social aspects of seeds, but among people, there are those who will pull us toward a norm or social expectation. Their norm and their expectation. There's an element of choice involved on our part, although we're sometimes oblivious to it, due to our justifications to self and others. We want the safety of the hull, the safety of our companionship among the other non-growing seeds.
If I were to contemplate the social aspect of seeds, I imagine that when one breaks out of it's hull and begins to grow in the direction of the sun, the other five or so look over and the dialogue goes something like this:
"See Harry? Don't know why he'd go and ruin everything by breaking out of his shell. Bet he doesn't know what he's doing."
"Sally's kind of looking green and freakish these days, can't be good."
"John's really in the muck now! Serves him right."
For those seeds that remain static, without growth, a greater value is attributed to the hull and the mentality that maintains it. Those that grew have their story become a cautionary tale for those that elected not to, resplendent with myths to go along with it.
If you're meeting life on life's terms, then you've got to deal with facts, as opposed to myths and cautionary tales. Simultaneously growing through the muck, there's also an element of faith you must have in both your growth potential and that something is on the other side of this muck worth growing toward. To me and for me, that's evolution. No seed that grows or person that emerges from their hull, is without fears. It's where you stand in relation to them that's going to define you.
So where do you stand in relation to yours?
Who are we, really, at our core? And how do we define ourselves?
I believe it's where we stand in relationship to our fears.
Ah, now that I've said that last part, I realize this has been an ongoing internal dialogue I've had for many years.
When I am talking about where we stand in relationship to our fears, I'm not advocating a particular brand of courage, but of perception. I believe a majority of humanity operates from a place of fear based motivation. Fears can dictate and drive a great deal of what we do and the actions we take, which become the building blocks of how we define ourselves.
When a seed is planted, it must grow through dirt and manure in the direction of the sun. It's got to have it's bit of rain and available nutrients from the soil that it will need. The whole time that it's growing, in the most vulnerable stages of emerging from the hull it's in, it must grow through this darkness and muck, initially not actually seeing the sun until it emerges from however deep it's planted. How does it know what direction to grow in, or that the sun is there at all? I believe it's an act of faith embedded in its core. A subtle design within the seed that gives it the ability to grow in the proper direction.
Some years ago, a woman sent me three seeds, telling me not all of them, or any of them, might grow. Being the citified girl I am, this disheartened me greatly, as I had lived under the illusion that all seeds must grow. Not all seeds do. I don't think I ever planted those seeds, for fear none of them would take. More recently, I received 6 endangered seeds, carefully nurtured them all in the same conditions, only to watch one of them grow into a plant.
I think as people, we assume it's the environment that creates the conditions that allow us to grow, and frequently blame factors in the environment for when things don't go our way. That gives over way more power to externals than I feel comfortable giving, quite frankly. And, as my seed experiment taught me, all receiving the same environment, conditions and nurturance, only one actually grew. Darwin might talk about this in terms of survival of the fittest in the evolution of a species, but that's not my take on it. I think the seeds that don't have a fear of growing and a fondness and comfort for their hulls.
I picture the angst of the seed, buried under the dirt, wondering if the effort is actually worth it. Break free of the hull, and you have no shell to protect you. You can't ungrow. It's unknown territory, insofar as a seed might be concerned. Why grow in the direction of something you can't see from the outset? What's out there anyway that might remotely be worth the effort?
As a person, I've had my comfort in the hull, as it were. I know the lure it had, back in the day. I remember the amount of energy I invested in justifying my stagnation. It really takes just as much effort to justify not growing as it does to actually grow, perhaps more. Here are a few:
"Hulls are fine, and I'm fine as I am."
"Life's really overrated."
If we don't meet life on life's terms, we aren't living, just justifying a hull of a life. I can't speak for the social aspects of seeds, but among people, there are those who will pull us toward a norm or social expectation. Their norm and their expectation. There's an element of choice involved on our part, although we're sometimes oblivious to it, due to our justifications to self and others. We want the safety of the hull, the safety of our companionship among the other non-growing seeds.
If I were to contemplate the social aspect of seeds, I imagine that when one breaks out of it's hull and begins to grow in the direction of the sun, the other five or so look over and the dialogue goes something like this:
"See Harry? Don't know why he'd go and ruin everything by breaking out of his shell. Bet he doesn't know what he's doing."
"Sally's kind of looking green and freakish these days, can't be good."
"John's really in the muck now! Serves him right."
For those seeds that remain static, without growth, a greater value is attributed to the hull and the mentality that maintains it. Those that grew have their story become a cautionary tale for those that elected not to, resplendent with myths to go along with it.
If you're meeting life on life's terms, then you've got to deal with facts, as opposed to myths and cautionary tales. Simultaneously growing through the muck, there's also an element of faith you must have in both your growth potential and that something is on the other side of this muck worth growing toward. To me and for me, that's evolution. No seed that grows or person that emerges from their hull, is without fears. It's where you stand in relation to them that's going to define you.
So where do you stand in relation to yours?
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