November 14th, 2009
I write to you from a train heading up to Valhalla, NY. Just that sentence makes me think that you are my sweetheart, my love..and I write to you from the war. I digress. One of my best high school friends, Dana Lanier Schaffer,was diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa (RP) , a degenerative retinal disease that is currently affecting her peripheral and night vision and will eventually lead to blindness. I’m meeting her for the VisionWalk--a 5K to raise funds to support research for RP other degenerative retinal diseases. I will write more about this experience tomorrow..I just want you to know my whereabouts at every moment. I like to check in.
As I am being transported, I am reminded of a 6 month period in 2007/2008 where I gave up my apartment and basically lived on the road. I was seeking some type of life change and spent that time traveling around to workshops that I was teaching, living with my then boyfriend and reconnecting with friends and family all over the country.
While this was a unique a opportunity..it lead to some major exhaustion. Life on the road(love that phrase) results with the unavoidable reality that I utilized every type of transportation imaginable…planes, trains, automobiles, bikes, subways, my feet, horse and buggies, flying carpets and magical unicorns. I have to admit, with so much uncertainly, it was often during my transit that I felt most at peace. There was something very cathartic and real about just being in the moment as I bounced from on locale to the next. These moments ended up being rather rejuvenating and offered me the opportunities to gain some insight and clarity.
I really didn’t have any other option than to just “be” as I was being moved from one location to the next. I have included a short piece below called “The Flying Trapeze”. The author is unknown. I read it at the end of my Humor for Health Workshops because this art form is only effective when participants are committed to allowing themselves to still their minds and be in the only thing that’s real, the present.
THE FLYING TRAPEZE
Sometimes I feel that my life is a series of trapeze swings. I'm either hanging onto a trapeze bar swinging along or, for a few moments, I'm hurtling across space in between bars.
Most of the time I'm hanging on for dear life to my trapeze bar of the moment. It carries me along at a certain steady rate of swing and I have the feeling that I'm in control of my life. I know most of the right questions and even some of the right answers. But once in a while as I'm merrily swinging along, I look ahead of me into the distance and I see another bar swinging towards me. It's empty and I know, in that place in me that knows, that this new trapeze bar has my name on it. It is my next step, my growth, my aliveness coming to get me. In my heart-of- hearts, I know that for me to grow, I must release my grip on the present, well-known bar to move to the new one.
Each time it happens, I hope – no I pray – that I won't have to grab the new trapeze bar. But in my knowing place I realize that I must totally release my grasp on my old bar and for sometime I must hurtle across space before I can grab onto the new bar. Each time I am filled with terror. It doesn't matter that in all my previous hurtles across the void of unknowing, I have always made it. Each time I am afraid I will miss -that I will be crushed on unseen rocks in the bottomless chasm between the bars. But I do it anyway. Perhaps this is the essence of what the mystics call the faith experience. No guarantees, no net, no insurance policy, but you do it anyway because somehow, to keep hanging onto that old bar is no longer an alternative. And so for an eternity that can last a microsecond or a thousand lifetimes, I soar across the dark void of "the past is gone, the future is not yet here." It is called transition. I have come to believe that it is the only place that real change occurs.
I have noticed that in our culture this transition zone is looked upon as a nothing - a no-place between places. Surely the old trapeze bar was real and that new one coming towards me, I hope that's real, too. But the void in between? That's just a scary, confusing, disorienting "nowhere" that must be gotten through as fast and as unconsciously as possible. What a waste! I have a sneaking suspicion that the transition zone is the only real thing, and that the bars are illusions we dream up to avoid the void where the real change, the real growth, occurs for us. Whether or not my hunch is true, it remains that the transition zones in our lives are incredibly rich places. They should be honored - even savored. Even with all the pain and fear and feelings of being out-of-control that can accompany transitions, they are still the most alive, most growth filled, most passionate, most expansive moments in our lives.
And so, transformation of fear may have nothing to do with making fear go away, but rather with giving ourselves permission to "hang out" in the transition between trapeze bars. Transforming our need to grab that new bar...any bar...is allowing ourselves to dwell in the only place where change really happens. It can be terrifying. It can also be enlightening, in the true sense of the word. Hurtling through the void --we just may learn how to fly. -Author Unknown