"Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage."
~Anais Nin
Anais Nin was a prolific writer known for making fascinating books out of her journals. One of the entries to her diaries said, "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."
I know what it is to remain tight in a bud. I did that for so many years in so many aspects of my life. My music, my writing, my speaking, my profession, my relationships, my education . . . all tight in a bud. My world was shrinking in proportion to my lack of courage, which was profound. If a lack can be profound.
Once, when I was in basic training in the army, we had to do this obstacle course. I was an okay athlete when I was younger, playing a lot of sports (tentatively, never really full out) so I was able to do almost all of those physical obstacles ... except one. There was one that I was terrified of. It was way up in the sky! It looked like a rope ladder to the moon! I got dizzy and sick to my stomach even looking up at how high that monstrous wooden tower stretched. We were supposed to climb a rope ladder all the way up and then . . . oh no way! . . . slide down the other side of the tower on a pulley on a rope! I froze with fear. This would not happen. It would not be possible.
Soon our platoon was marching toward this next obstacle. What was I to do? I really had to think fast. Right next to us was another platoon marching to a different obstacle station, one that we had already done. As they marched next to us I started marching closer to them until I was right next to their outer line of people. I had to think fast, so I forced a stumble, a half-fall down to the ground, and as I spun and pivoted in the gravel I got up and back in line . . . in the other platoon's line!
I kept marching along hoping no one would catch on, and they didn't! I was now a part of the other platoon---and as I went through their obstacle with them (an easy one, crawling under rope nets with your rifle, like a spider) I kept an eye out on my own platoon---my real platoon! My friends! I saw them! They were going up, up, UP! That godawful tower! And then sliding down! Poor souls! How do they do it? And when I noticed that they were finished and were marching off to their final obstacle, another easy one, and I ran over to the back of their formation---the sergeant leading them yelled at me.
"Chandler! Where were you?"
"Sorry, Sergeant, I fell. I fell in the gravel back there. I'm okay now."
And the sergeant never said another word. Later that night in the barracks as we were getting ready for "lights out" some of my friends asked me, "How did you like the tower?" And I said, "Didn't do it." They were astonished. I told them the whole story and they laughed like crazy! I was surprised. I thought they would hate me for my cowardice, but they liked me all the more!
This phenomenon has always amazed me. The more I tell people about certain shameful acts of cowardice I have done, they laugh and say they feel closer to me now. How is that?
I used to be so afraid of public speaking that I literally could not do it. I would seize up. My throat would close. I would feel such a pressure on my chest that I couldn't catch my breath to speak. When I did speak my voice was so shaky it sounded like I was talking through a window fan.
When I gave my first seminars I was so scared that I could not bear to have the people in the room looking at me. Look at their eyes! Staring at me like WHO'S HE? WHY IS HE IN FRONT OF US? WE HATE THIS GUY!
So I would pass out little Xeroxed hand-outs and I'd pass them out front to back . . . I would start my speech as I was handing them out . . . so they were not looking at me, they were occupied with the hand-outs. Here, I have one too many in this row; are these two stuck together?
But me? I kept talking and talking about my subject as I moved back, back, from the front of the room to the back. Soon I had handed the last sheets out to the back row and now I WAS IN THE BACK OF THE ROOM STILL TALKING AND ALL I SAW WAS THE BACKS OF THEIR HEADS!
I would then move slowly up the middle aisle, still talking all the way, and as I got to the front of the room I was okay. My initial butterflies were gone, and they had nice expressions on their faces, and I knew I would now be just fine.
What a process fear can put us through. What a dance we dance with the devil himself by the light of the moon. But then how nice to finally know that it is possible to be fearless.
Hello Steve,
Just want you to know how much I have enjoyed your works. I always feel like
I am becomming a better person, thanks to you, and your books.
Troy Shondell
Posted by: Troy Shondell | July 19, 2008 at 12:10 PM