Letting go…of the fear of crossing the forest

When life seems uphill, it is so much easier to stop climbing. To turn away from the mountain. To simply be than to climb. For climbing takes breath. And at times like these I find it easier to just hold my breath. To allow a certain placidity to creep over me.  As terrible as that may sound, it is easier than climbing. For climbing takes energy. It involves risk and uncertainty.

And even if the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel does exist, it is hard to see it, squint as you may. For all you can see is a path. A path that is dark and scary. A forest even. One looming with dangers.

My daughter was having trouble sleeping tonight. Something was bothering her and I told her a story. It stemmed from this half-written blog entry and was loosely based on something I had read somewhere.

I told her that we come across many a forest in our life. “Does this forest have spiders?” she asked anxiously. “Yes it does,” I replied. “And it has all the other things we are scared of. For this forest doesn’t really exist. It’s in our mind and everything we think we are scared of, we imagine being in this forest.”

But beyond this forest lies a wonderful land. One that can be reached only after we cross the scary forest. And with every forest, we have a choice. We can either sit at its edge, believing it to be safer there and not move ahead. Or we can venture into the deep dark forest in the hope of getting to the wonderful land beyond it.

She wanted an example and I pulled the one that was closest and scariest – for her and for me - that of the surgery. I told her how I could have stayed on my couch forever rather than have surgery. The surgery was my scary forest. I was scared of everything they were going to do to me. I was scared of being cut and sewn. I was scared of how painful it was going to be. How sick I would feel.

I knew I would probably get worse before I could get better. And that getting worse was the part in the forest. And that was scary.

But again there was the sight of the wonderful land that lay beyond the forest. One in which I was healthy and strong and had the energy to do everything I wanted to.

So it was up to me. Either to sleep on the sofa and have everything remain the same. Or to venture into the forest with all its scary spiders hoping to get to the wonderful land beyond. And who know of this land. Maybe it will be wonderful. Maybe it will just be okay. But I wouldn’t know till I crossed the forest, right?

Other examples from her sweet life later – of math and music, of fear of failure and finding courage… she was finally ready to sleep.  

I was surprised at the impact the story had on her. “I will never forget this story Mom,” she confided and I was so proud of her.

She asked if I would write it out in the form of a story – or even a book – so she could read it over and over. And hopefully I will. If I can cross my forests of inertia and self doubt.