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When Courage Calls You to the Plane Door
June 4, 2013 by Lizabeth Phelps
My daughter went skydiving Saturday. You see here just one of over one hundred photographs of this great act of courage. She was afraid that morning–and was indirectly asking me to let her off the hook. (I had bought this for her for Christmas.) I told her that she didn’t have to go; that the decision was entirely in her control—but that she’d have to make the decision from the site, not from the comfort of home.
We arrived early enough for her to watch several others land and she rather quickly became comfortable with the idea and got herself harnessed. She and I talked about this being a metaphor for “leaving the nest,” (she’s going to college in two months) and we established another metaphor, too, when I asked her to fill in the blank, “If I can jump out of a plane, I can _____________!”
The woman told her that the “Oh, *$#! Moment” would be when the door to the plane opened at 10,000 feet (that’s the height of ten Empire State Buildings, by the way), but Courtney said she didn’t feel terror then. She said she didn’t think; she “just jumped.”
I believe that, through me, she was called to the door of that plane; called to do something she would not have done for years, if ever; called to find something bigger and stronger in herself than she was fully aware of possessing. Every one of us is called to the plane door at some point in our lives. Some doors are at 200 feet; others at 20,000. The question always is, will we “just jump”?
A lot of experiential trainings make the leap that if you conquer a physical fear—such as walking on coals or breaking a brick or jumping off a cliff—it translates to your being able to conquer an emotional fear in your life. Personally, I have not found this to be true. Emotional fears can be far more crippling than a physical fear, with a far more terrifying “Oh, *$#! Moment” than you’d experience in the instant of, say, potentially breaking your hand or even dying.
I’ve had two such emotional “plane door” moments in the last five weeks. At each one, I sat nearly paralyzed at the edge, looking at the drop below me, aware that I had more to lose than I’d ever had before, feeling the nausea roil in my stomach and up into my throat—far more physical a reaction than my daughter had in the sky. In both of my cases, I did think—which was a good thing—but then, like Courtney, I “just jumped.”
And I know, with every cell in me, that I was called to those plane doors. First, I was called to the plane itself—to the last remaining fear that I had masterfully avoided for most of my life. And once aboard, I was called to the precipice to face it. Lucky me, I have more emotional skydives ahead of me over the next two months, but here’s what I’ve discovered so far: with each one, I’m walking to the door with less analysis paralysis; stepping to the edge faster; jumping by design rather than default—and trusting the parachute. Trusting that it will open. Trusting that it will support me so I can really see the vista around me. And trusting that it will guide me gently to safe ground.
It may be true that my daughter will now say, “Nothing can stop me!” because she’s been right inside the ultimate “Oh, *$#! Moment.” But I can guarantee that facing my “Oh, *$#! Moments” here on the ground are making me unstoppable. These are the plane doors that really call us to our greatness. They are not metaphors, they are the real thing, and when we conquer them, when we stand at the highest height we’ve ever allowed ourselves to go in our own spirits, we are gifted with wings. And there is nothing that can stop us.
Come to the edge, He said.
They said, We are afraid.
Come to the edge, He said.
They came.
He pushed them…
and they flew.
—Guillaume Apollinaire
Kimberly Tyson says: Great post and great thoughts. Facing fears. You’re right – it’s not a metaphor. It’s real life. Sometimes at 5 facing the fear of falling off a 2-wheel bicycle. Then again as a teenager and adult – so many fears and unknowns. Falling off the bicycle is still scary. Facing fears. Never welcome. Usually worth the risk. But you never know unless you face it.
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Lizabeth Phelps says:
Yes, it’s there to do at every stage, isn’t it, Kim? And what we thought we dealt with (fear of falling off the bike) comes back if we didn’t *really* deal with it. 🙂 Fun!
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