Fear of Flying

Two years ago, I stood at the edge of a narrow plank thirty feet up in a
California redwood. As I gazed down I wondered why on earth I’d paid good money to be terrified and wished I was back there. On earth, that is.

Earlier I’d watched my teammates climb this same tree one at a time and leap. Like them, I’d willingly stepped into a climbing harness and clapped on a hard hat. A safety rope clipped into the back hook of the harness completed my fetching ensemble.

As I stood at the base of the huge tree, a pulse of blood roared in my ears so that I barely heard the instruction to climb until a tap on my helmet made me move. I put my right foot on the first wet and slippery spike driven in to the tree trunk. I gripped spikes above my head and hauled myself up as the smell of damp moss and bark filled my senses.

Bit by bit I climbed until finally I scrambled awkwardly onto the small platform attached to the trunk. When I straightened and looked down, the earth appeared further away than it had any right to be. While the tree swayed in the soft breeze rustling through its branches, I drew in a shaky breath. Terror really does make your mouth drier than lint. And how could I possibly be standing upright on knees made of Jell-O?

“Now, walk to the end of the plank.”

Blackbeard had probably used those same words to goad his own victims to their doom. Even so, I gave the tree a quick hug and turned around. Inch by frightening inch, I focused on my feet, trying to ignore the ground which seemed to fall away even further. When I thought I’d gone as far as I could the relentless voice called again, “Hang ten.”

I edged forward just a smidgen but it must have satisfied my tormentor because there was only one more instruction.

“Jump!”

Now I knew what a suicide standing on the ledge of a skyscraper must feel like but for me there was no window to climb back through. Besides, I came up here to learn something about myself. There was only one way out of this tree. I hesitated and then leapt.

My mind screamed ‘No!” It wanted to clamber to the rear, consider its options, take a vote, anything except this but my body was in motion and gravity had the upper hand.

It was that split second, caught between something solid under my feet and thin air, which remains most vivid for me. I still taste the terror, the compulsion to stop, the panicked “Oh God, what have I done?” but there was no going back.

In that briefest of moments between earth and sky, I discovered there is commitment in taking even the smallest action. My fear carried within it the possibility of courage.

I stepped out, felt the rope go taut and screamed with pure joy. I was flying.

Looking back over my life before that moment I see how fear often held me immobile. Stretching forward from that instant in time I finally understand I can feel the fear but do it anyway -- whatever ‘it’ might be.

And if I feel stuck, unable to move, I simply tell myself, “You jumped out of a redwood tree, girl. You can do anything.”

Courage shows up when I step through my fear and on the other side of that is JOY!