Change

I remember my first awakening to the concept of change distinctly.

I was four years old.

Mum and Dad had taken me to Ruapehu for a holiday in the snow.? I had my very first pair of sunglasses, a deep red frame and dark, polarized lenses.? Most exciting for a four year old!

On our first day on the mountain, we headed to Whakapapa ski field and it was a beautiful, blue bird day.? Snowmen were made and snowballs thrown. ?I stood proudly on the back of my Dad’s skis, clinging to his back pockets for dear life so as not to be dislodged as we made our way down the slopes.? It was my first sensation of sliding smoothly along the snow and it was exhilarating!

On the second day we ventured to Turoa ski field, and it was a different story.? Cold, windy, poor visibility and sleet coming in sideways – it was miserable.? This time, as I rode the back of Dad’s skis I buried my face in his back, closed my eyes and winced at every icy stab of snow that snuck past the protective layer of my snow gear.

I was scared.? This was a new and hostile world to which I was not accustomed, and I could not understand how the blue skies of yesterday had given way to this bitter and harsh environment.? Hoping to reclaim some of the peace I had experienced the day before I made what I remember thinking was a very simple suggestion: that we return to Whakapapa ski field where in my mind, the sun and snowmen were waiting for me.

I can still almost taste the disappointment I experienced at my Dad’s answer that the weather at Whakapapa was indeed worse, and we were already on the more protected side of the mountain.? I could not fathom that the idyllic scenes of the day before no longer existed.? There was no way I could return to that, as much as I wanted to.

Change.?

Ever constant.? Dependable.

One of our biggest teachers.

Fast forward to today as I venture across Europe, my first visit since 2017, this experience from my younger years comes firmly to mind.? I have been incredibly fortunate to travel a lot over the years.? A love of art, culture, history and food has often driven me to explore the treasures of Europe.

But after Covid 19 something shifted for me, and I’m sure, many others.? I noticed a new apprehension towards travel that had never existed for me prior to the pandemic.? I felt sceptical about change and my ability to navigate it having spent those pandemic years used to the creature comforts of home.? As I travel in this new head space, I’ve reflected a lot on the model of ‘zones of learning’ and how it might account for this shift in my travel appetite.

This model postulates that we can sit within three different zones of readiness (or lack thereof) to learn.

The middle zone is what we can call our zone of comfort, or what some refer to as ‘safety island’.? If we think about this in neuropsychological terms, we are operating from our parasympathetic nervous system.? It is a space of calm, rest and rejuvenation.? We speak a lot about this space as an important balancer to stress in the modern world and we know that time spent here has many psychological and physical benefits.? We know that cognitive capacity is greater when our parasympathetic nervous system is in action and that this space can be a great place to attempt new things or bed down new knowledge.

However, different life events and experiences can influence the size of safety island.? For example, for many of us, safety island shrunk substantially during the pandemic, often not much larger than the square metreage of our homes.

Let’s jump now to the outer ring – which we sometimes refer to as ‘shark infested waters’.? Think of this space as full sympathetic activation where fight or flight are in the driver’s seat, overwhelm is close by and comfort feels VERY far away.? Operating from this zone makes accessing any type of cognitive function incredibly difficult and is rarely ever conducive to learning. What puts one person to another in this zone can vary greatly.? However, a universal experience throughout the early stages of the pandemic was images of bodies lined up outside temporary morgues.? We learnt that leaving home could have grave and unpredictable consequences.?

Which means that, during these times of restriction, it was very difficult to spend much time in what we call the zone of challenge.? In this middle ring we can push past the comfortable, the known, to experience change.? Perhaps more importantly, in this zone we can experience how we adapt to that change.? When we toe dip outside of our comfort zone, we can stretch the limits of what we feel capable of.? We have the opportunity to gain mastery over a task that may have previously felt unmanageable.? Here we can experience both success and failure but most importantly, adapt to whatever the outcome might be.?

Depending on where you lived during the pandemic, the autonomy that many people have had the privilege of growing accustomed to, was gone.? Opportunities to push outside of your zone of comfort and experience growth, at least growth that could take place outside of the four walls of your own home, were all but gone.

Do you remember what ‘the firsts’ felt like after lockdowns?? Returning to work, socialising, school, groups, committees, travel, flying for the first time? If we focus on socialising alone, we know that the rates of social anxiety increased during this time and that was not just for people who already experienced some form of social anxiety.? In fact, we saw that the rates of anxiety in general rose throughout the pandemic.? If we consider that within the zones of learning model it makes a lot of sense.? We lived in a time so restricted that we had very little variety in our day-to-day experience.? Although there was great unpredictability in what was happening in our world, home became boringly predictable.? There was very little change.? And so very little opportunity to push out of the zone of comfort and grow!?

And so here on my first major overseas trip since 2017 I’m noticing that my zone of safety has shrunk considerably.? Many things feel like firsts again.? The long-haul flights, the lack of control over transport schedules and delays, the navigation in new places, the language, food, the general feeling of ‘not quite getting it’ when it comes to customs and etiquette of each country we enter.? Suddenly change is my constant companion, and I have to dig into my resources to take that on as an adventure and not just a threat for fear of spending my whole trip in shark infested waters!

I hit particularly challenging hurdles around 2000 meters above sea level on the sides of mountains in Salzburg.? A fear of heights makes hanging suspended from cable cars hundreds of meters in the air a bit of a big deal for me.? Hiking on paths that cling to the side of said mountains with nothing but air between me and the ground very far below – also somewhat of a challenge.? On the first of these occasions, I rode the edge of my zone of challenge nicely using all the distraction and parasympathetic regulation skills I had to have an enjoyable day. ?I felt proud for getting it done and knew I’d increased my zone of safety a substantial amount. ?The second mountain was a different story.? For whatever reason my fight or flight response was untameable, I was way past the zone of challenge and well and truly into shark infested waters.? The words of my respected self-compassion teacher Anna Friis rang in my ears; “nothing good ever happens in shark infested waters”.? Using all my self-compassion to call it a day and turn back I let my family continue exploring as I made my way back down to the restaurant and had a nurturing hot chocolate.? I wasn’t going to happen that day.

So, change.? Life’s constant companion and a pain in the arse for those of us who like predictability and to peek around corners before we must walk around them.? This trip has provided me with fertile ground in which to come up against change, to adapt and grow my zone of safety once more.? I’m now thinking about my next trip and having a little chuckle that I feel quite excited to head off on something far more adventurous and unknown.? But for now, time to let the familiarities of home nestle me in and absorb me once more.