After my last post on Fear, I was faced with a dilemma this week. Small boy asked me to do something that scared me. It was a simple request: to go on the “big roundy roundy slide” with him at the indoor play centre. My first reaction was to say “no”, but then what would I be teaching him?
The “big roundy roundy slide” has always frightened me. I went on it once, reluctantly, with big boy some years back, but have actively avoided it ever since. However, having made a vow not to let Fear hold me back, I agreed to go with him.
It may seem silly to you, but sitting at the top of this slide, watching little children throw themselves fearlessly into a black hole over and over again, I wanted to know why I could not. I told small boy that I was feeling a little bit frightened and asked him why he did not want to go on his own. He was frightened too, he said, but unlike me, the idea of going on the “big roundy roundy slide” excited him as much as it frightened him and, most importantly, he wanted to overcome his Fear in order to experience the slide. How could I refuse? Small boy promised to keep me safe. I asked him to give me a moment. I told him that I would go with him, that we would keep each other safe, but that I needed a moment first.
So I sat there for a moment and tried to understand my Fear. In my head, I asked myself what I was feeling. It was Fear, but of what? Fear of the unknown; Fear of getting hurt. Those were the only excuses I could think of for not stepping up and sliding down. The feelings seemed silly to me, but also very real.
Would I go too fast? would I bump my head or my elbows on the way down? The only way to find out was to try it. So I sat small boy on my lap and we launched ourselves into the twisting tunnel of the slide. And we slid, very, very slowly downwards… until half way when we suddenly seemed to speed up for a moment before stopping somewhere short of the end. I had thought we would whizz down at a much faster speed. I thought we would twist and spin and bump heads and knees and elbows. I though we would come shooting out of the dark into daylight at the end of the tunnel. But no, all of my expectations were wrong.
The clothes I was wearing slowed us down. The drag of the plastic on my bare feet caused a small friction burn near my ankle, but the sense of achievement at having faced my fear and come out of it in one piece with a beaming small boy was worth it. And now? I wanted to go again. I wanted to show him (and myself) that I could do things I was scared of and that it was OK. I wanted to go faster. I wanted to enjoy the Fear. I wanted to beat it and turn the Fear into FUN! So, after a few deep breaths, we climbed up and we went again. I tried to push us faster, tried to keep my feet tucked in, tried to enjoy the ride. We went a little quicker this time. I knew what to expect, so the Fear was only of the known… of hurting my foot. And I did hurt my foot again, but I promised him we would return another day, with socks and slippier clothes and that maybe we would both try going on our own next time.
So what did I learn that I could pass on to my boys? I was reminded that Fears often come down to expectations… we are afraid of what we think might happen… and that Fear can paralyse us. But these expectations are rarely realistic. If we put those expectations aside, the Fear has less power. If we embrace the unknown and look at what appears to be a frightening situation more as a finding out, rather than an expecting… approach it as an adventure and allow ourselves to become excited by the possibilities instead of being halted by the expectations, there is potential there. If we consider the Fear as an opportunity for growth, we give ourselves the chance of getting the most out of a situation.
So next time I am faced with the Fear, whether in relation to my creativity or any other area of life, I will ask myself: “What I can learn from this?”
I will try it and see how I can grow.
If you could embrace the Fear of creating and take yourself on an Art Adventure, what would you do? Where would you go? What would you learn? How could you grow?
Another great post Julia – love reading your work
Thank you Sarah. x
I am also reminded here of a canoeing trip in France some ten or so years ago. I was desperate to do this, to jump in a canoe and paddle down one of the gorgeous wide rivers, through glorious countryside, past a beautiful old chateau. But when I donned the inflatable jacket, stepped into the boat and was ready to go, the Fear got to me. I was scared of falling out of the canoe, fearful of tipping, but not being able to get out, afraid that I would lose control and be dragged along by the current. But when I did let go and went with the flow, I found that I was carried along by the current, but in a comfortable, wonderful way. I found my flow. I was transported by nature, distracted by the scenery, calmed by the all beauty around me. I felt a rush as, from time to time, I lost control (and gained it again) and an enormous sense of achievement when it was over and all I wanted to do was do it again.
Dear Julia,
Thank you so much for sharing this lovely story. It’s so precious when children help us get rid of all the barriers and fears that we have accumulated throughout the years. Thanks to my nephew of one year I am rediscovering the wonder of playfulness, of forgetting about the whole world, and of being effortlessly silly (instead of caring about looking serious and decent in public the whole time). Reading your story about the slide also reminded me of an episode from a few years ago: my boyfriend was trying to teach me how to rock climb, but I was too paralysed by the fear of falling to focus on what my body was doing. So he suggested that I try jumping off a big rock to practice “safe falling”. I was attached to a harness and part of my mind was telling me that he wouldn’t make me do it if it wasn’t safe. Still, I took me ages (so it felt, and judging by my boyfriend’s face it probably was) until I found the courage to take that step. I kept on trying to decide on the best way to move, on where to put my feet, to anticipate where I would fall and imagine moment by moment what would happen. Well, it was all too much! My brain just got more and more confused and the fear grew. At one point I was so tired of being stuck and torturing myself with imaginary scenarios that I jumped! And it felt great: a short but real swing, a bit like flying for a few seconds and then I landed safe about 2 meters lower. Wow! – I thought – I can do it! But when I wanted to try again to familiarise myself with the feeling I was back there again…. thinking, anticipating, and worrying about all the things that I could get wrong. It took me a good hour and three more jumps to finally conclude that I could not just rely on my brain to work it out – my body knew how to handle it, as long as I relaxed enough to allow it to move free! I think the same goes for painting, writing or any creative pursuit: if we only use our logical brain, we will be forever hampered by this inner critic that doesn’t realise that there are other ways of acting, too. Since that day at the climbing wall, I have learnt (a little) to just follow the surge of spontaneous creativity when I feel it coming… or else I might never find the courage to write entries like this and do so much more!
Thank you for sharing your stories too Urszula. Sometimes we have to just jump, don’t we? It is wonderful that your little nephew has led you along that silly fun playful path that is so easy with kids. Long may that joy in mischief and simple things last! Rock climbing is something I would love to try one day. Big son is keen to do it as well, so perhaps trying it with him I will also learn to be brave in a harness and FLY! I am so glad you felt the creative surge and commented here. Do drop by again soon. x