Category: Pushing Through the Fears

Living in Hawaii as a kid was great fun, with some awesome adventures—my favorite place from around the world as an “Army Brat.” We lived on Schofield Barracks where there was a huge Olympic-size swimming pool with amazing tall diving boards.

I suppose it was while in a class, we were given an assignment to climb the diving boards and jump off. I remember climbing all the way up there, but then I just couldn’t get the courage to jump off! I don’t remember how long I stayed up there trying to get up my nerve, I only know I finally climbed back down . . .     all the way back down!

I wonder if my climbing back down off that high dive was the start of my commitment to not ever give up—to never chicken out—again! Oh, it might take me hours—or days!—but I finally find somewhere inside the gumption to push through the fear—whether it’s rappelling off a cliff, parasailing, or just sharing something about myself that’s really scary. I knew somewhere inside I had it—that courage. My go-to response seems to have often been, “I can’t! I’m too scared! What if . . .” But at some point I’d dredge up that courage and go for it. I’m a big scaredy-cat, but eventually pull out my Superwoman costume from somewhere!

Invariably, once I’d do it, I’d think, “Wow! That was fun!” or “That wasn’t so hard.” And, “Why did it take me so long?!” The not doing of it was worse than the doing. It seems Hawaii gave this “Army Brat” yet another adventure . . . Bring on Superwoman!

Overcoming what seemed like a week of trying to gather up the courage, I finally did it! My sister Marian and I were down in Acapulco, Mexico. Our beautiful room was up on the 11th floor and, when we went out to take in the view from the balcony, there they were down on the beach.

“Oh, gosh! I want to do that!” But it seemed so very scary.

Everyday I’d watch them and everyday I’d want to try it. I just couldn’t.

“Yes you can,” I’d say to myself. “No! I can’t! What if I fall. I’m too scared!”

But the very last day I was there, I knew if I were to ever do this it had to be now! Marian’s return flight had already left that morning. But I was determined. I wasn’t going to let my fear continue to keep me paralyzed. I was going to do this!

So I took myself—and my camera—down there and paid my money. I am going to do this! They asked me if I was sure I wanted to take my camera and, “Yes! Absolutely!” I had to be able to prove it  . . .  to myself!

It was a blast! And I had the pictures to prove it!

Jump! That’s what it felt like they were asking me to do. Jump — 120 feet off Gibraltar Rock! I was north of Santa Barbara in a rock climbing class. I’d already summoned what courage I had to climb up the 120-foot of rock wall. And now it was time to rappel down off the thing!

I kept going over to the edge looking down the massive boulder outcropping gasping, “No way! I can’t do that!” But I wasn’t about to give up. I was determined. It seemed as though I was up there for hours. Everyone else in the class had already gone. There actually was an easy way to just walk back down. But I was determined to get my courage up to do this. I wanted—no, I needed—to do this. For me. To show myself I wasn’t just a big chicken. Finally, I put on the harness and, with everyone’s support and encouragement, I finally did it. I was doing pretty good until the rock face suddenly receded and I no longer had my feet against the rock. I started to yell and about that time someone leaned over from the top, “Just keep going. It’ll be there.” I started letting out the rope and finally got to the bottom. I was ecstatic! I did it!

Hey! Let’s do it again!

It came to me like a lightning bolt. I was in the Santa Monica Mountains with my friend Bob after making our way out onto a knoll on “my” Boney Mountain. The ocean smell was intoxicating as it rode in on the insistent roaring wind blowing up from the Pacific Ocean. He picked me up and held me over his head, yelling to me through the noise of the strong ocean wind, “Now fly!”

At first every part of me was screaming, “Put me down! You’re going to drop me! I’ll get hurt!”

But, then, something struck me like a lightening bolt from — well, from somewhere — “Just do it!” I stuck out my arms, straightened my legs and just let go.

I was flying! It felt as though the wind had just picked me up — right out of his arms! The sun was still going down, that aromatic fragrance of the Chaparral was still incredibly exhilarating . . . but — I was flying!

I trusted. I surrendered. I gave up control. And . . .        I was flying!

Throughout my life I have remembered that moment in time — when I consciously let go and trusted. I could clearly see — that day over 40 years ago — when I let go, I truly could fly. It just took trust and being willing to surrender to what might come.