The Bridge
Hey, good to see you again. Sit back, kick your shoes off and enjoy the story.
There was a cold nip in the air that seemed a bit harsh for October, but then, we were up fairly high.
I groped in my pocket to find my gloves and pulled them over my chapped hands. Despite the temperature, it was a lovely morning in the back-ways. The landscape and the wonderful view made up for the cold a thousand-fold. My dog, Niklas, was pleased too; he ran up and down, panting and smiling, covering at least three times our distance as we walked.
We were hiking along a field in the Carinthian foothills, heading for a friend’s cabin where we were planning on having some lunch and enjoying the afternoon far away from civilization. We were surrounded by gentle slopes covered with rough mountain grass, interrupted by occasional groups of trees and outcroppings from the woods. Many of the leaves had already fallen off the trees; they were blowing about in the wind, just to collect in wistful piles on the brown grass. The fate of the leaves still hanging on had visibly already been sealed; they hung forlornly in shriveled groups of brown and dark orange, waiting for their chance to jump and join their friends on the ground to dance with the wind.
And even though the sun was shining brightly, that well-known chill had already settled over the land. Fall was here and winter was closing in fast. I smiled, threw a stick for the dog and walked behind my friends. Life was good.
After about an hour or so, we could see the cabin in the distance. It was up on the south side of a hill, surrounded by quiet hay pastures and a few trees. It was a comforting sight, seeing as we were all getting a bit hungry and were looking forward to lunch and some fire brewed coffee (our specialty – it’s good, but one cup is enough to keep you awake for a week).
The path leading up to the cabin wound up the hill, crossing a small stream before finally reaching the front door. The stream itself wasn’t very wide, but it cut quite deep into the side of the hill creating a sort of ravine and there was a wooden bridge, oh about 6 meters long, where we could cross it. From a distance this all seemed very simple and straight forward, but as we came closer, I could see that the ravine really did go down a good ways and that the bridge was only about 30 centimeters wide and had no hand rail.
We all stopped at the bridge and automatically looked down. Way down. It really looked deep from where we stood. We smiled uneasily at each other, nobody quite willing to admit that they were nervous about crossing the bridge – it was, after all, wide enough to walk on. I looked down into the ravine again and surveyed the rocks, the sticks and the brush growing down there. I wondered fleetingly if we could scale down it and back up on the other side without getting our feet wet. Or even with getting our feet wet, we were almost at the cabin; we could dry our footgear at the fire. It didn’t look that hard; we could certainly do it with ropes. Naturally, we hadn’t brought ropes. Drat.
Niklas went first. I threw a stick to the other side and he shot across the bridge, grabbed the stick and shot back, in true Labrador style. He flung the stick to my feet and began barking wildly, doing donuts in the air. Do it again! Do it again! Do it again!
Okay, so the dog can do it, it can’t be that bad, I decided. I threw the stick back over to the other side and watched Niklas tear over the bridge again. He survived, so I too began tentatively making my way across.
I balanced my way to about the halfway point before I took my first breath. I could see the dog waiting on the other side with his stick. By the look on his face I could tell that he was wondering why I was walking so stiffly, but he didn’t seem to want to disturb me either. He could tell that I was nervous about something, so he decided not to get too close and to just wait there for me to throw his stick again.
‘Just don’t look down’, I told myself, ‘don’t look down’.
I looked down. Gasp. Swaying involuntarily, with my center of balance approximately at my throat, I almost lost my equilibrium. I struggled for a moment to get myself rebalanced, using my arms like the long pole of a tight rope walker. I could feel panic rising and rushing to my cheeks. Lord, it was even farther down than I thought. Good God. I caught my breath and steadied myself. And I still had half to go!
‘I’ve got to get myself organized’, I thought. I paused and drew a few deep breaths and released my shoulders. I could feel my center slowly sinking back down and my muscles relaxing. I lifted my eyes and concentrated on the dog, who was holding his stick and wagging his tail on the other side. Slowly, and calmly, I placed one foot in front of the other, eyes softly looking ahead and crossed the rest of the bridge.
Safely on the other side, I turned and beamed confidently at the others. ‘Come on you guys, get going, it’s not hard.’ I smiled, and Niklas bounced at my feet. What a lovely day. Lunch was going to be great.
Isn’t it silly? Most people would have absolutely no trouble walking across a board that is 30 centimeters wide – especially not if it’s lying on the ground. Nothing can happen, right? But as soon as you hang that board over a dangerous drop off or abyss, then suddenly 30 centimeters doesn’t seem very wide anymore. Suddenly it becomes a dangerous undertaking, a risk of sorts.
We do this to ourselves all the time in life. Little, easy things become difficult and scary, when we focus on what could happen if we stepped wrong. A new business venture, buying a new home or changing jobs can become daunting tasks if we look down and concentrate on the rocks and stones that are waiting for us should we fail. We easily become tense and nervous, and loose connection to our natural balance. Taking the time to center, clear our thoughts and focus our attention on where we’re headed, not on where we could land, helps us rebalance and regain the confidence we need to intuitively place our feet correctly and easily cross all bridges we encounter in life.
So come on, get going! It’s not hard.
Happy crossing
Lisa
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It’s all about releasing fear.
Great post, thanks.
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Gute Geschichte, ist wirklich so im Leben. Super mach weiter so………..
Lg Wolfgang
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@ Kaushik: Yes, it really is about releasing. This is also connected to your post about positive thinking where you wrote about not just glazing negative feelings with positive ones, but instead understanding them, accepting them and then letting them go.
Here it is similar. It is not about telling yourself that nothing can happen, but instead about accepting the fact that some things in life do carry an amount of risk with them (accepting the negative) and recognizing this and accepting the emotions that this realization causes, but not dwelling on them, and moving beyond them (to the positive) to achieve a goal.
It is not about the denial or the glazing over of the negative, but the acknowledgement of it and the power to move beyond it.
@ Wolfgang: Danke. Es freut mich, dass du meine Geschichten liest. Ich glaube, dass das Leben voller aha-Momente ist – wir brauchen nur dafür offen zu sein.
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I agree. It is important to recognize the risks in life. I also know as soon as you start focusing on the rocks below, you drive yourself right into them. Life is a delicate balance between seeing the risks and keeping your focus on your goals. Great post, as always!
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Right Michellle, well said. Life really is a delicate balance between risk consiousness and forward movement.
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I see myself how I often do the same thing. When things get a little risky, I start focusing on what could happen – I stare into the ravine, as you said, and can’t look away.
This has stopped me from accepting challenges many times in my life and has caused many a frustration, because I often feel stuck and unable to decide what to do. I sometimes focus so hard on the risks, that I just simply can’t get past that anymore.
So how do I get passed that? How do you get yourself to stop focusing on the risks? How can you get yourself passed the fear of what could happen?
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I thought my brain was private. You mean I share this stuff with the rest of humanity??
Great post, loans me some nerve, which is no mean feat.
When I go to get on a very large horse I have not ridden before, I have to mentally shorten them before I get on, tricking myself into relaxing over the distance between the unknown and the relatively known. (How much leverage can a horse this size achieve when lowering it’s massive head and shoulders and lifting it’s massive rear end high in the air? How much velocity, exactly, would THAT create? How high would that cause me to fly? How far? At what speed? And what then would be the force with which I would hit the dirt?)
Wow. Nearly scared myself again describing it, sitting here safely in my desk chair. I’ll have to reread, get back to the “thank you for loaning me some nerve” part.
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@ Daniel: Sorry I have taken so long to respond. It is important that we acknowledge and accept every emotion, including fear, because each emotion is telling us something. To ignore it or deny we feel it is to ignore what it is trying to tell us.
Fear is generally telling us we have to get ready for something or that we have to prepare for something. As soon as we have understood the underlying message then we can check if we are indeed prepared enough or not, (ie are we able to do it).
If our answer is no (we aren’t able to do it), then we know that we have to prepare more before we do it; the fear gave us the opportunity to change our behavior.
If our answer is yes (we are able to do it), then we know that way we are interpreting the situation is inappropriate; the fear gave us the opportunity to change our perception.
To get lost in the emotion – to only focus on the emotion and not understand the underlying message gets us stuck and doesn’t let us develop.
So basically, I’d say the best way to get passed fear is to acknowledge and accept it and then to look for the underlying message and see what needs to be changed – what you’re doing or the way you’re interpreting it.
This is naturally true for all emotions (is particulary interesting of course for emotions that get us ’stuck’)
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@ Jane: I would also say that you have a deep trust in your riding ability and truly believe that you can indeed handle even the big ones, because, as we both know deep inside, the punch that a little one can pack is just as deadly as the punch of a big one.
Whether you get squished with 200kg per cm2 or with 400k per cm2 is an academic point. Squished is squished.
So, I suppose you just adjust your perception accordingly every time you climb aboard. :-)
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Jane Reply:
October 26th, 2009 at 17:39
You made me laugh so hard: “squished is squished”.
There goes my brain again, busily trying to chart all they ways something may or may not be more dangerous, arranging how to trick myself, when in reality, *squished is squished* and I know I’m going to get on anyway and relax.
Thanks for the belly laugh and cut-through-it clarity!
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Lisa Reply:
October 26th, 2009 at 21:36
Well, there’s truth to it, you know. :-)
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Hi Lisa!
I am visiting from Wilma’s blog. What a beautiful story and so true. If you had let fear keep you from crossing, the reward would have never been reached. Sometimes when I face fear, I feel so much stronger on the other side.
Great post, many thanks.
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Lisa Reply:
October 24th, 2009 at 7:25
Hi Angelia,
Thanks for stopping by. I’m a regular reader of Wilma’s blog too. Her words tend to touch me very personally.
I agree with you here – when I face something scary I also feel much stronger afterwards. Here as I was crossing the bridge, I felt 10 feet tall afterwards. I could have jumped for joy, and of course, I couldn’t wait to tell the others how ‘easy’ it was. :-)
I was so relieved and then I realized how much my fear was connected to the dangers I perceived, and not to the width of the bridge, per se. It really generally is that way in life.
Cool glasses!
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Oh Lisa, this so resonates and I would do exactly the same as you.
Halfway letting the fear get to me. Unbelievable.
You are so right, when it is on the ground, no worries but when I perceive there is no safety net, then I am vulnerable and very afraid.
You know, I am so learning that in life. However what I found, I have been over a few bridges now, and they can still give me the creeps.
How many times . . . till I know I won’t fall.
What I have to watch afterwards though is that I not create fear so that I become fearful of those bridges and start to avoid them. THAT is what I am really afraid of.
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Lisa Reply:
October 24th, 2009 at 7:29
Crazy isn’t it. If you know you have a saftey net, then you can do almost anything.
I felt the same when my parents passed away. Although I had been on my own for many, many years, I suddenly felt as if I were working without a saftey net. It took me some time to get that feeling behind me. Nothing had changed, but I imagined all the terrible things that could happen now that my parents were no longer there to help me, should I need it.
Our perception really does define our experience, doesn’t it?
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This kind of article has made myself know that most of us have to take alot more proper care of ourselves and each other.
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