I stood at the top of a black diamond slope, intimidated by the moguls that had formed after hours of heavy use and warm weather. I had skied this slope earlier, but now I would have to go right through the moguls on the steepest part of the hill in order to get to the path to our ski lodge. The only alternative was to walk down the hill in ski boots while carrying the skis. Not a pretty picture. I had to do it. I mustered up the courage and took the leap, dropping down over the edge.
That’s the hard part, we think. Deciding. Just do it. We move forward. We may fall on our face, but even that’s progress toward the goal.
Halfway down the slope, though, I just froze. Literally stopped in between moguls and could not move. The longer I stood there, the more paralyzed I was. People skied by me complaining about idiots stopping at the steepest part of the mountain while my husband and son tried to cajole me forward.
I was hanging between two monkey bars and couldn’t let go. Fear consumed my entire being. It was such a horrible feeling that I can still remember it vividly.
Patti Digh describes that paralysis in Liminal Spaces
The space between the monkey bars. You have to let go, fully, of one monkey bar before you can grab the next one. Else you are stuck between, a heavy weight pulling your hands down on the bars; you’ve lost momentum.
I was stuck in that space between again last year when I changed careers. Now and Then. Broken and Whole. Whole was so far away I began to think I would not find it, but would wander around in a dense forest, losing my way, retracing the same path unknowingly.
Hanging between two monkey bars afraid to let go, the heavy weight pulling me down, I danced with despair and regret daily.
We think the leap of faith is that first movement, the reaching for the desire. Decide. Act. Proceed. Yet the hard part is still to come, letting go of all that was, of who we were and who we are in that moment in order to become who we need to be. Sometimes the hardest part is the second movement, letting go of the last monkey bar, overcoming the fear and resistance that have charged into battle to maintain the status quo.
Eventually, after much coaching from my family, I moved forward and skied down the mountain. I had no choice. I couldn’t stand there forever. Life is not like that, though. I could have remained stuck psychologically and emotionally last year, hanging between two monkey bars for a long time. Some people do. But just as they coached me off the ski slope, I had family and friends coaching me to let go of the monkey bar, grab hold of my next goal and move forward with my life.
Now that I am flying into the unknown I realize that the safety of hanging on was an illusion. Now I am wrapped in the security of this space between; it is a rich and luscious flight.
(This article is a response to prompt #1 from Patti Digh at A Year With Myself, a year-long journey of self-exploration. Join us!)