FEAR & EXPERIENCE
FEAR is a powerful thing.
It has an ability to cast doubt in places of our minds that obstruct and debilitate many forefront experiences we seek to grasp. FEAR can be a combative controlling force of our human psyche, armed with a strength—if we allow it—to deter, avert, and discourage our natural progression into both the unknown and the positive growth we seek. Still worse, the consequences of unbridled, unchecked, and unaware FEAR can pervade us with paralysis and run wild with remorse.
“If only I weren’t so afraid…” the inner voice can chop us down, often at the height of potential.
EXPERIENCE is a powerful thing.
It has an ability to create life-long lessons that can be antidotes to those crippling feelings, raise in blood pressure, increased heartbeat, and form that all-too-familiar pit in our stomach. EXPERIENCE exists in the moment we plunge, heart first into something new for the first time. It is also carried with us as a well to draw strength from, helping us to relate to first moments of life and the teachings those moments bring. EXPERIENCE has a way of increasing blood flow in a more positive way, while bringing an elated smile to our face in that second of now, lowering our anxiety when EXPERIENCE spreads a protective layer to doubt.
Over ten years ago, I learned to snowboard in Angel Fire, New Mexico. The stories of bumps and bruises others had experienced were ingrained in the expectations to what lay ahead. When we lived just ten minutes from the resort, I accepted those words of warning as indication of the difficulty learning anything can bring. Those words tempered my expectations while strengthening my resolve that falling was part of the deal. My first instructor armed me with the tips and tricks to make it off the chair lift without the typical and repeated face plants or pirouettes. Day after day, those same lessons helped me progress to a bona-fide beginner, capable of at least coasting down the tamest of groomed, mountain trails. I remember taking the long, Chile Express lift straight up a Sangre de Cristo peak, rising from a beautiful valley in northern New Mexico to the top of one of the tallest, most pristine, vantage points around. The lift pushed and bounced above some of Angel Fire’s more difficult terrain dubbed expert by someone qualified to grade ski runs as such. Natural, rugged, full of uncertainty that no beginner was likely to tackle with grace or without peril. It was far beyond from what I was learning to ride. I remember the FEAR and self-doubt that came from my beginner status, looking down at that steep, precarious path, thinking I could never ride something like that.
Seven years ago, she was but a struggling, young, student at one of the state’s more non-traditional universities. Fresh out of high school months prior and with a juggle between full-time call center job and a full-time college freshman, she knew it was going to take determination and diligence to both maintain and thrive in this new environment. She was plenty confident in herself, having walked across that graduation stage, shaking the principal’s hand, reaching for her diploma, knowing the 3.2 GPA was adequate to get her to the next chapter of her life. She’d applied for the necessary student loans to support this independent path, she set out on. Neither propped up by scholarship dollars or deep-pocketed financial backing, she was destined to do this on her own. She figured to spend a couple years building her transcript, career, and confidence in the current setting and then was accepting of a we-will-see approach. Her first semester of classes consisted of 12 credit hours strategically scheduled on her days off from work—Tuesdays and Thursdays. She knew she could get most homework done on those days and any pour-over work could be accomplished before her 2 to 11pm shift the other days.
Public Speaking 101 was one of the freshman requirements that rattled her most. A self-labeled introvert, the idea of delivering to a room of strangers was never something on which she prided herself. Yet two weeks into her college career, she sat in a room of 20 strangers, and instructor, note cards twisting and bending in her hand. A FEAR rising from every corner of her body, clutched at every breath. Alphabetically she was next to deliver a five-minute speech on any topic of her choice. In front of a tripod-propped video camera, she was rehearsed and prepared for her five minutes on the thought through and humorous-expected topic of Public Speaking & Why It’s the Worst.
Three years ago, he was only two hours into rookie fatherhood. His spouse delivered under cesarean a beautiful, healthy, eyes-wide-open baby girl into their world. Together the pair had taken all the birth-coaching classes, they’d read most of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”—his wife, maybe a few more chapters than he. Together their anxiety was a shared connection. The anticipation of bringing another human into this imperfect world, both framed and encapsulated a storybook romance, now transitioning to the deeper, purpose of parenthood.
His wife, a groggy recovery from the unknown of everything that had recently transpired on the other side of that blue curtain obstructing her vision, and he, partnered alongside the nurse, his newborn, and readying for his first lesson in swaddling. As the night nurse weighs the 8lbs, 6oz healthy soul, the newborn’s hand struggles to encircle his pinky. He had no idea his little finger would lead straight to his heart. He wonders what the world looks like through the baby’s glassy, dark eyes, attempting to focus on blurry colors and piercing light for the first time. HIs preparation, reading, classes, late night discussions on what it would be like for the new parents faded into a split-second of FEAR.
“Lord, help me,” the weight of responsibility pushing his firmly planted feet harder into the white tile.
After ten years of riding, falling, getting up, pushing on mentally, prepping physically, and most importantly time and EXPERIENCE, I found myself on the same Chile Express lift last Saturday. Over the years, my hobby of snowboarding a few times each year manifested into a drive to tackle anything I was brave enough to drop into, leading to an obsession that four months every winter, is given life and a snowy-pulse all its own. Over a decade, I’ve enjoyed several moments at the top of a path where FEAR was suppressed for the EXPERIENCE to gain skill, knowledge, expertise, and keep pushing. Each momentary EXPERIENCE adding to my confidence and ability. As the Chile Express lift cascaded up that same Sangre de Cristo peak, rising from a beautiful valley in northern New Mexico to the top of one of the tallest, most pristine, vantage points around, my friends and I pushed and bounced over the top of Angel Fire’s “expert” terrain.
“I can’t believe I used to be afraid to ride that,” were my thoughts. Further reinforcement that perspective is directly influenced by the breaths we take, the times we push, and the choices we make every day. What once created FEAR-stricken thought was just another day on the mountain. Four of us decide to go find something more difficult.
Now, seven years removed from that dark, small classroom, she stood in front of a boardroom of executives. She’d learned to use humor to work the room. Her delivery, flawless. Her speech, perfected. For 35 minutes, she captured the attention of eight highly respected leaders of both the firm and her field. Both women and men, intently listening. Each with far more experience than her, they were engaged and intrigued by her ideas and words. Masterfully, she wove between business-focused charts and statistics to prove her point, embedding stories of how they matter in life and to their organization’s purpose.
That morning, she walked into the room confident she would own her stage. Thankful for the EXPERIENCE of years honing her craft. Grateful for her choices along the way to cast FEAR aside for the chance to either succeed or grow. Realizing she was always growing and therefore, succeeding.
Three years later, he found himself dropping off his toddler with her grandma, headed to the same hospital around the same time of year. His daughter’s knowledge of the world, growing everyday as he’d found new purpose in being a father content to equip his little girl for the world ahead. His consistency, unquestionable. He was after all, raising someone who would contribute to the next generation. He took that responsibility seriously.
“Bye Daddy. Bring back my baby bruva,” she yelled watching her parents back down the driveway.
?He reached his hand out for his wife’s. She was in the early stages of labor. And as he moved the truck from reverse into drive, their eyes locked, without FEAR, thankful for the EXPERIENCES and ups and downs the last few years had brought to their young parenthood.
“We’ve got this,” his word met her slight nod and smile of affirmation.
Have a great weekend. You’ve earned it.
Joe