As I stood at the edge of the cliff glancing back over my shoulder, I knew I had a choice to make.
OK, let me back up. No pun intended (you’ll see).
One Time at a Dude Ranch…
Ten years ago I went to a dude ranch (aka western guest ranch) in Arizona for a week-long workshop on corporate communication. Actually, that was the stated purpose of the workshop. It was actually more like a week of life-changing introspection and personal growth.
Our dude ranch was situated in the Saguaro National Park, part of the Sonoran Desert just miles from Tucson. I was with a group of 20 for a “master class.”
There were horseback rides, desert walks, and a smudging ceremony.
But I hadn’t seen anything in the promotional materials about hurtling down the side of a cliff.
Yet here we were, sitting on the patio for a pleasant sun-drenched lunch, when our leader, Joe, broke the trance. He pointed to a cliff in the distance and said, “See that cliff over there? You’re going to rappel down that cliff later this week.”
“Yeah, thanks but no thanks!” (That’s what I heard several in the group say.)
“Cool! I’m in!” (That’s what I heard me say.)
Wait, what?
Yes. For reasons still unclear to me, I heard myself declare that I would risk life and limb to rappel down the side of that cliff in the middle of the Sonoran Desert of Arizona when I had three children who depended on me waiting innocently at home.
I don’t know what I was thinking.
The Big Day
And then the big day arrived.
The rappelling instructors, who had already introduced us to tarantulas and rattlesnake parts and carcasses earlier in the week, showed up. (Why couldn’t they have just gotten a flat tire? You know, run over a cactus or something?) But show up they did, and they began to teach us how to rappel.
Basically, to rappel, you wear a harness with a rope threaded through a locking carabiner and attached to a piece of apparatus called a belayer. Then you put all your trust in this equipment and descend a steep rock face or other vertical structure to depths unknown.
This is really not my thing.
I mean, I’m all about guarantees. Safety. Facts and figures.
NOT risk-taking. So, naturally, as they spoke, my fears grew. And I did what I do best. I started gathering data. (That’s what we thinkers do! We analyze! OK, fine, we stall!)
And I peppered our guides with questions:
- “Does anyone ever die from rappelling?”
- “What are the actual statistics on rappelling accidents this year? Last year?”
- “How old is the rope?” – followed by “Wait, a brand new rope? So that means no one has tested it yet?”
They were so patient.
I wanted them to tell me that this rappelling “adventure” would be 100% safe. But of course they couldn’t tell me this. There was some element of risk.
And I knew I could back out. But equal to my fear was my stubbornness. Heck no – I wasn’t going to back out now.
So we set off and hiked our way through the desert to the peak of the cliff. As we climbed, my fear grew. The cliff hadn’t looked nearly as high from the safety of my patio seat, I can tell you that.
Now, to make matters worse, this rappelling-down-the-side-of-a-cliff day happened to be a very windy day. Which meant that the mat the rope was resting on was flapping up and back in the wind, not resting safely atop the rock edge.
Lovely.
What image did I have in my mind? Of course, an image of the rocks sawing away at the rope, sawing, sawing, sawing, eventually slicing the rope in half.
This would probably happen right as I began my descent.
Given the circumstances, a couple people from our group decided to turn around and hike their way back down to safety. I didn’t for a second blame them.
Others in the group were unfazed by the problem of the wind and the rocks sawing away at the new rope. They went over the edge with an enthusiastic “Wahoo!” – even stopping to enjoy the view halfway down.
I did not fall into either of the above mentioned groups.
I was squarely in the “completely petrified but too stubborn to turn around, so let’s just get this over with” camp.
My Turn
And then my turn came.
I got all strapped up, rope through belay device to harness. Then I ran my instructors through another series of questions:
- “Is there any chance I could fall straight to the bottom?
- “How long have you been doing this?”
- “How new did you say this rope is?”
I’m sure they had thoughts of helping me down the cliff without the rope.
So I’m standing there thinking about this new rope wildly thrashing against the rocks and all the guidelines are swimming through my head about what I’m supposed to do with the rope and with my legs and with my hands and that I love my children very much and that I’m so sorry I did this.
And then it was time to go. So what did I do? Did I start the act of rappelling?
Oh no. I froze. My body really would not move. I tried. I really did try to take steps back. But I was shaking, frozen by fear.
Harnessing the Power of the Mind
So now I felt the pickle I was in, because all week I had said I was going to do this and that it really didn’t look like a big deal, and I had hiked all the way up this cliff and I had driven the instructors nuts and others from the group were wahooing and whistling and high-fiving, and I’m standing there stuck.
Have you ever felt that way?
But as I’m stuck, I also knew I needed to do this. I just didn’t know how.
I vividly remember the moment I told myself, almost out loud, “There’s only one way down. I have to do this. NOW.”
So I stared down at my left foot, cleared my mind of the “fraying” rope, and willed my foot to move.
And it moved.
I inched it back every single bit of the way towards the cliff’s edge, not taking my eyes off that foot for a millisecond. (Had I broken the focus, I’m sure I’d still be standing there today.)
Then, when my left foot was at the edge of the cliff, I turned my attention to my right foot, stared at it, and used every ounce of mental strength to move that foot back to the edge of the cliff, next to my left foot. I was still shaking like a leaf.
Once both feet were as far back as they could go while still keeping me vertical, I took the scariest step of my life. I backed up into thin air, letting gravity (and the rope) take hold, beginning my descent down the side of that cliff. Supported only by a rope bouncing against craggy rocks, step by step, full of fear, I focused like never before and made my way down that cliff.
Now, I’m not going to lie, I didn’t love every minute. I didn’t wahoo or yoohoo or yeehaw. I didn’t particularly enjoy the view when I stopped at the mid-point either. (I was too terrified.)
But – I did it. I made my way down.
I forced my mind to stop obsessing over the “What was I thinking?”s and the doomsday scenarios. And I simply took one step after another and made my way down.
Truth be told, it was scary, but it really didn’t suck.
Your Mind is a Powerful Source for Change
By intentionally changing my thoughts, I did what my body alone wouldn’t do. I faced my fears, I sprung (OK, crept) into action, and I made my way down that cliff.
The mind is pretty powerful, isn’t it?
So here’s what I leave you with:
If you are feeling stuck, powerless, fearful, or lost, if you are at the top of a cliff, wondering how you will ever make it down, I get it. Really, I do.
But consider what are you filling your mind with. Consider your self-talk. Consider the messages you are allowing to take hold.
There’s plenty out there to make us feel anxious, fearful, and powerless. We are bombarded with messages daily.
But there’s also plenty out there to make us feel hopeful, calm, and empowered. We just have to seek those messages out.
If you are facing a risk, a fear, or a challenge, I offer you these three choices:
- Play it safe. Turn around and take the trail back to safety. It’s OK.
- Stay at the top of the cliff, immobilized with fear, gathering your facts and figures. (Maybe drive everyone, yourself most of all, a little crazy.)
- Talk yourself into taking the first step. The first inch. And take it.
The choice is yours.
By the way, despite my protests, the view really is kinda cool in mid-air.