Giant’s Ladder

Trust must fill the place vacated by the absence of fear.

Since I’m not traveling over the summer due to COVID-19, I am reminiscing about former vacations. My memories take me again back to Miraval.

Giant’s Ladder was another challenge activity in my Arizona getaway. It was described as integrating trust, balance, and cooperation as you climbed a giant ladder that was forty feet high. Participants were also told it was the most physically demanding of the challenge activities offered. It sure was. The eight rungs of the ladder were spaced anywhere from four to six feet apart. In my opinion, most of them were more on the six feet apart end of things. Only the first level was truly manageable. At least for me.

I partnered up with a woman who also traveled alone who had a background in education. Mallory was in the music department at Northwestern University. You could do the activity alone, and apparently there had been people who got to the top on their own, but I don’t see how that could happen. My perspective was lacking in this area. I definitely needed a partner in order to make the smallest of progress on the ladder.

The two of us did an outstanding job of communicating, working as a team, and problem solving. I wasn’t worried about not trusting her, or falling, or balance either. The harness was so secure. The team who belayed the climbers from solid ground below always were poised and ready the entire time to release rope and pick up slack.

I was safer than gold in Fort Knox.

Feeling safe is a huge component of trust.

Without safety, there is fear. I think back to a few moments in my life where I have felt physically unsafe. Fortunately, there have been few of these, but accompanying each has been a terrorizing fear. When I feel safe, I also feel confident whether I am in control of events or not. When I feel safe, there is a prevailing calmness within. When I feel safe, I trust. Safety, confidence, and calmness all attribute to trusting people, situations, and life. In the Giant’s Ladder, I felt safe, confident, and calm. I trusted my partner and the people below who belayed.

The hard part of the challenge was the pure physicality of it. My upper arms got bruised badly, multiple times. The backs of my knees took a beating. I looked very battered the next day. I only made it up about two rungs in the hour that was allotted. Getting to the top would have brought about more lessons in confidence and conquering obstacles. It was the goal, but learning still happened with my limited progress.

People are always there to support me.

People are ready to catch me when I fall.

We all need support. We all fall.

Part of trust is also letting go. You can reread last week’s post on letting go here. Letting go is the bridge between fear and trust. I see this bridge as one of those bridges high above a chasm that sways perilously as I trod carefully across it. Wooden boards are missing underfoot. Rope supports don’t provide much security to my white knuckled hands. The distance to the other side, from fear to trust, is a great divide. But step by step, I scarcely breathe as one foot steps in front of the other. I have to let go to get to the other side.

Metastatic cancer definitely makes me feel unsafe. There have been times where I’ve felt utterly out of control. It takes a lot of reminders that these feelings are just feelings, they are not who I am, and that they will pass. Somewhere there is meaning in all I’ve experienced.

I still have much work to do.

Let It Go

Let fear go.

Fear has been on my mind a lot lately.

Fear prevents people from living.

It prevents people from making changes. It prevents people from accepting the changes that happen more gracefully.

Years back in 2008, I vacationed at Miraval Resort in Tucson, Arizona. Miraval is about an hour outside of Tucson, located in the foothills of the Santa Catalina Mountains in the Sonoran Desert. The philosophy at Miraval is one of life in balance. One of my experiences there illustrates facing and engaging fear effectively.

I chose Miraval in order to relax somewhere warm over my spring break. In addition to the spa amenities, challenge activities were offered every day. Part of the Miraval experience was about going out of your comfort zone and challenging yourself. I signed up for something called Swing and a Prayer.

In Swing and a Prayer, a person is attached to two cables, hoisted up around 35 feet or higher, and then released from one cable and left to swing as if on a giant pendulum. This definitely took me outside my comfort zone. At this point in my life, I considered myself a fairly confident person who felt like I could achieve goals I set out to do. Yet, numerous insecurities had popped up in life as they do. Swing and A Prayer was to help me learn to approach life more fearlessly. Then I could transfer what I learned to other parts of my life.

Nine participants including the instructor set out for the challenge one morning before it got too hot. Everyone wore a harness. There were two cables. One was the pendulum cable. The other one you released so you could swing. The instructor secured someone to the cables. We worked as a team with the ropes to slowly hoist the person upward tug of war style, hand over hand, until the swinger was at maximum height. Think of being at the top of a telephone pole. At that point, the instructor held onto the rope until the swinger from above let go of their end to commence the swinging. A lot of synchronization and teamwork was involved.

Yes, you read that last part right. The swinger had to actively let go, release their tightly held grip, in order to swing. It wasn’t some automatic release like on a thrill ride.

It was a conscious, deliberate action.

The mental and spiritual parts of the challenge were about facing the unknown and letting go. Both are such strong metaphors for life. We fear too many things and usually the fear itself is far worse than the experience. People spend too much time in their comfort zones. Every day of life is unknown. Face the unknown. Be good with it and go with the flow.

Letting go is perhaps the strongest lesson from Swing and a Prayer. The higher I was raised, the harder it was for me to physically hold on to my part of the rope. I could feel and see my hand slipping bit by bit. Chalk it up to no upper body strength and sweaty hands. It was more work to hold on to the rope than to let it go. So it is with many of the tensions, difficulties, and stresses in our lives that we hold when we really need to let go. Don’t think. Just let go.

Let it go.

Face the unknown.

Be in the moment.

When I let go of the rope, I experienced total stillness. There was a second between letting go and starting to swing that felt stretched out and absolutely quiet. I felt suspended in air. There was such stillness. I felt so calm. This is what it is to be in the moment.

Next came the swing. It was smooth and flowing. The first swing outward and then back to my starting point were the most exhilarating. I felt like I was flying and is probably the closest I’ll ever come. The sound of air rushing by filled my ears with a whirring sound. And yes, I screamed. It wasn’t a fearful scream, but more of a beautifully long “Whooooo – whooooo.”

I want to remember that feeling of release and stillness. How good it would be to release worries, fears, stress, sadness, anger, and anything else that I shouldn’t hold anymore. All of this happened before my diagnosis. Life is different now than in 2008, a lot different, but releasing energies that no longer serve me is still as important now as it was yesterday and will be in the future. They are hard to release. They are hard to hold.

I want to remember it was more work hanging on than in letting go.

Something written by Reverend Safire Rose beautifully captures these feelings. A good friend sent it to me several years ago and it is the perfect way to finish today’s post.

She Let Go

By Reverend Safire Rose


She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice. She didn’t read a book on how to let go. She didn’t search the scriptures. She just let go. She let go of all the memories that held her back. She let go of all the anxiety that kept her form moving forward. She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn’t promise to let go. She didn’t journal about it. She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer. She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper. She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope. She just let go.

She didn’t analyze whether she should let go. She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter. She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment. She didn’t call the prayer line. She didn’t utter one word. She just let go.

No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing. Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad. It was what it was and it is just that.

In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore.