Mexico, 2009. I was on a family trip with the extended in-laws that included an ATV day tour with a stop for lunch at a river where it flows under a bridge. Not a huge bridge, but big enough. Attached to the bridge, adjacent to one of the concrete pilings, was a rope swing. The rope swing.
You can’t see it, but the rope was tied to the bridge just in front of the concrete piling, so in order to use the swing you had to jump out on a bit of an arc, dropping into the water just as you reach the peak of the arc.
It wasn’t a complicated maneuver, and I’m not afraid of heights or water, but for some reason on that day I could not bring myself to swing on that rope, despite desperately wanting to. I stood on the rocks, rope in hand, trying my hardest to will my body to jump. My mind said “Yes! Look at all the fun people are having, look at how easy it appears, how the little kids and older adults and everyone in between is doing it, I can do it too!” But my body was frozen, absolutely solid, and would not budge. I would think, “What’s the worst that could happen?” and the menacing little voice in the back of my head muttered:”You’ll hold on for too long and hit the rocks, or you won’t jump out far enough and you’ll hit the rocks. No one else has had a problem, but you will.” And that little voice kept on listing all the ways that I could make a mess of it and how bad it would be when I did.
In the end, defeated by my own treacherous self, I let go of the rope and climbed down. The people that had been watching my struggle sighed in disappointment, a tiny echo of what I felt inside. I spent the rest of the trip beating myself up over my cowardice, and fantasizing about having another chance to conquer my fear and enjoy that damned rope swing. For years after I would imagine flying back to Mexico, renting an ATV, and in a cloud of dust and determination, returning to the river and swinging on that swing like I knew I could.
Of course I didn’t fly back, but the experience stayed with me. Fast forward a few years, and the effect of the rope swing debacle has matured into something more useful – a resolution to stop getting in my own way. It has resulted in numerous small occasions where I pushed a little outside of my comfort zone and actually enjoyed myself.
This past fall I attended a voice workshop hosted by my yoga teacher, Asia Nelson, featuring a world-renowned opera singer, Kimberly Barber. She taught us about breath control, voice amplification, and how to be kind to your voice so that many hours of teaching and talking wouldn’t damage it. As part of the workshop, each of us had to sing a song of our choosing in front of everyone else, and Kimberly would give us individual feedback. That’s right, sing in front of a group of 20+ peers, and a video camera.
Due to a lot of small-scale decisions to be confident I don’t fear speaking in front of groups, and I like to sing, but my singing usually happens in the car, the shower, or the kitchen when no one but the cats and I are home. Like many people, the thought of singing in front of others induces pure dread into my heart and makes me shaky. I obsessed for weeks over the song I would choose and which part I would sing and what were the worst-case-scenarios if I sucked worse than I thought. I knew what was happening, so I prepared my short piece and vowed to go at the beginning so that I didn’t have to be nervous for any longer than possible. (I’m an eat-your-broccoli-first type of person.)
When the workshop finally arrived, and the moment came when Kimberly asked who was going to sing first … I froze. I sat in my seat, staring like a deer in headlights, and didn’t budge. I could almost feel the rope swing in my hands, see the river, feel the people watching. A battle of wills RAGED inside of me for what felt like minutes, and before I could move another broccoli-first classmate beat me to it. She got up, she sang, and she didn’t die. I watched, entranced, as Kimberly’s cues made her voice louder and clearer. She finished, we applauded, and it was time.
I launched out of my seat with enough force that I pushed it back a little and marched into the center of the circle. I introduced myself, then made a joke about wanting to have my turn at the beginning so that I would stop having to nervous-pee, then immediately regretted saying it which made me want to melt into the floor. Kimberly asked me to sing, and with a little quaking but without further ado, I did.
She asked me to sing it a few times at various speeds, do silly-looking facial movements and breath exercises, I forgot the tune at one point and my nervousness didn’t really let up, but by the end her cues really did help my voice get stronger and easier. Before I knew it my turn was up – I sat back down, and nearly passed out from excitement.
I had grabbed the rope and jumped! I felt positively elated and almost floated all the way home after it was all over, I felt like I could accomplish anything!
After thinking about it for a while, I’m convinced I really can. There are still situations that I haven’t mastered yet, but as those rope-swing moments appear in my life I will no longer allow myself to get in my own way, because I know what it feels like to truly lose an opportunity to do something great, or fun. I encourage you all to trust yourselves and take chances on things you want. Ask, what’s the worst that can happen? How likely is it to happen? What will I learn from it if I do fail? Is the worst-case really worse than never trying in the first place?
Then grab your rope and swing.
Resilience In Motion by Meagan Walker 