It’s been a long time since I’ve really been afraid. Well, I did call the police several months ago because I thought a murder was happening outside my door one night when Mr. Trueheart was out of town. Turned out to be a fox. (If you’ve never heard a fox scream, click the link. Now you get it.) But it’s been a long time since I did  anything that has me shaking in naked fear. I do get nervous when I walk into the show ring with my horse, but I’m not terrified.

We recently flew to Aspen to meet up with wonderful friends for a visit. The plan was for all of us to go skiing. OK, I thought, I can just do the easy stuff since I haven’t had a pair of skis on since 1987, and even then I was a total beginner. We rented equipment and I signed up for a lesson.

I showed up for the ski school and I was grouped with some folks I knew were better skiers than me. I was seized by an unexpected but overwhelming terror. I tried to speak up and tell the instructor that I couldn’t stay in this group, but every time I tried to open my mouth, my lower lip started trembling and  I almost started crying. Sheer panic was written on my face. Thank goodness that one instructor asked if I wanted to stay in the group. I managed to squeak out that I wanted to be in the tow-rope/bunny-hill/very-beginner group in an unsteady, wavering voice.

Our teacher gave us a very few hints and told us to grab onto the tow rope. I could barely move. I’m 56. I didn’t want to cry. I was paralyzed.

I’ve had bad experiences with skiing lessons. In my early 20’s I went skiing for the first time. I was with my Mom, who loved to ski, and my brother who was a strong, graceful skier. I showed up for my first-ever lesson, and realized I was the only student older than four. One of the teachers took pity on me and gave me a private lesson to save me the humiliation of learning with children. After a few pointers on the bunny slope, he took me up to a blue (intermediate) hill. I couldn’t control my itty-bitty skis and my instructor had to ski backwards while bending forward and holding the tips of my skis together as I leaned over and wrapped my arms around him.

This time – I managed to improve over the course of the morning. After lunch, our instructor told three of us that we were ready to take the chair lift to the top.  I skied a long beautiful mile-long run and it was magnificent. In fact, I want to ski next year (if we get snow!!)

The second first that day was snowshoeing. We took a one-hour snowshoe hike to the Pine Creek Cookhouse, a warm rustic spot that felt like a cabin-in-the-woods, for dinner. The scenery was astonishing. I was exhausted, and almost didn’t think I could make it, but I did.

The dinner was wonderful, but the best part was the ride home.

I notice that as I get older, I do fewer and fewer new things or things that scare me. And, it seems more and more things scare me. I don’t leave my comfort zone as often. That’s why I was so proud of myself for skiing, and for snowshoeing. I was petrified, and I was exhausted, but I did them. There’s no better way to feel proud and competent and alive.

In addition, doing new things helps our perception of time slows. When we do new things, it takes our brain longer to process all the information, so it seems that time slows down. This is good news as we age, as time is whizzes by with increasing speed.

I’ll never be a thrill-seeker or daredevil, but I will continue to attempt to slow time by getting scared and trying something new.

“We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down.” ~~Kurt Vonnegut.

How about you? What are you doing to develop your wings? XO

Links I hope you will enjoy:

A really good article on the whole plasticity of time.

Great piece on the fruits of passion.

New movies I’m dying to see.

I recently finished Lena Dunham’s wonderful book that reminded me how painful it can be to grow up. Here, she gives advice on everything from sleeping with bad people, to the fear of death.

Here’s why it’s quieter when it snows.

Picture books for kids and their grandparents.

 

I have been really struggling lately with chronic, pretty much daily migraine headaches. I’ve had bad headaches since I was a kid that struck only rarely. But not anymore. Now, I wake up around 4 a.m. with blinding pain in the bridge of my nose and up onto my forehead. I’ve changed my sleeping pattern, my diet, added and subtracted vitamins and supplements, altered my exercise routine, tried a whole new blend of medications, meditation, Pilates, Integrative Manual Therapy, prayer, Gyrotonic, massage – you name it. I am also doing as much research as possible about treatment options and I am changing some doctors, so I am not giving up hope.

The bummer about this is that I often cancel plans at the last minute, and I have lots of anxiety about making new plans because I worry I won’t be able to fulfill them when the time rolls around. I worry that some friends don’t include me on their plans anymore because I am so undependable. Because migraines are invisible, I worry that people think I’m faking, or that I’m trying to get attention, or that I’m just weak or whiny. Pain can be isolating.

Since I’ve started keeping a calendar, I realize my good days are few and far between. The saving grace is that while my mornings are a combination of pain and medications, I am usually functional by the late morning or early afternoon.

This problem is forcing me to ask for more help from others. My husband takes wonderful care of me, but sometimes he isn’t home or he’s busy and I need help, so I am forced to call on close friends. This is not easy, but it’s a new reality. I realize that as we age, we are all going to need to call on others for help, and this is the heart of building community.

I am striving to be a better friend and neighbor and find new ways to be of help to others so we can all rely on one another if we need it. A dear friend of mine who has dealt with lots of illness in her family has taught me that it’s often wonderful to offer to do just the most basic things for friends in need. Don’t use the general, “let me know if I can do anything to help.” No one knows how to use that offer, so they don’t take you up on it. My friend has taught me that offers need to be very specific and even those seemingly small tasks can be lifesavers for those of us who are struggling. She came over once just to feed my dog and let her out for a while, which was the perfect way to help since I really couldn’t get out of bed.

So many people are struggling with their own pain, or medical conditions.  Car accidents, bad surgical outcomes, cancer, degenerative diseases, arthritis, loss, dementia … tragedies abound. In addition to working to be more helpful, my pain helps me be more empathetic and remember to “be kind, because everyone you meet is fighting their own battle.”

Life isn’t always fair, or what we want it to be, and while occasional pain can teach, chronic pain carries no lessons and simply cripples even the bravest and strongest over time.

Are you suffering? Are you in pain? I am sending out a hug to all of you who may need it today or any day.

“Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It’s a relationship between equals. Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others. Compassion becomes real when we recognize our shared humanity.” ~~ Pema Chödrön

On another note, yesterday was National Puppy Day, and while Mia is now ten, she will always be my puppy-girl. Here are a few picks from the day we got her from the Marin Humane Society. Happy Belated National Puppy Day!

A few links you might enjoy:

The gift of being present amidst a tragedy. If you only read one thing today – read this.

The most beautiful woman in the world has the heart of a lion. Angelina Jolie’s frank discussion about her decision to have her ovaries and fallopian tubes removed.

Sinead O’Connor‘s version of Danny Boy.

A beautiful note from a Mom to a step-Mom.

A great book I’m reading now – Bettyville.

XO