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Well, of course, lesson number one is to have a relaxing day, rather than one that sends you into apoplectic shock, but not everyone can learn that one easily.

Now that my own mom is gone, Mother’s Day is spent doing something deliberate with my daughter (as opposed to reading in a hammock in solitary bliss), such as going to see Hair on Broadway, bicycling at the shore, watching our favorite mother-daughter movie, Tumbleweeds. This year, I had the brilliant idea that we should experience a ropes course at the Turtleback Zoo nearby. I think because my (rather ancient) memory of this zoo was that it was little more than a petting zoo for children, I assumed its sister adventure course would offer the same level of challenge.

LOL.

Now, for those of you who have charged your way through high ropes courses, I suspect you would consider this child’s play—and my own confident enthusiasm was evident as they strapped me into the harness, telling us that refunds past that point weren’t allowed, with my smile to my girl that said, “I guess some young children get scared…” Up I went the first ladder and stood happily on the first platform.

And then glanced down at my first action-step: to close the giant gap between me and an innocent-looking board. I couldn’t move. I was done before I’d even begun. Thankfully, they knew enough to post a guide right on the platform with you for this first lethal act and he was quite confident that I could make it. I looked across the chasm to my daughter, who had, indeed, succeeded to the other side and she called back, “The first step is the hardest! But then it gets easier.”

I don’t know how long I stood there, contemplating the inches across and the ability of my body to take a giant leap that was clearly not meant for human beings. I was told then, as I was told a thousand more times, to pull down hard on my lifeline and it would support me as I jumped. Absolutely nothing in my consciousness grasped that fact—then, or ever–but finally, somehow, I took that first life-defying step—and I was off!

I told my daughter on the next platform, “I’m getting off as soon as I can!” She nodded in soothing understanding. “We don’t have to go on to the second course; but we do have to make it through this one.”

I figured a panic attack was an effective exit strategy for getting out sooner, but my pride did get the better of me, so I gingerly turned to face the second challenge—and encountered my next searing lesson, then my next and my next. Indeed, the only thing that kept me from losing my mind entirely suspended in mid-air was this blog post; knowing that this ignorantly arranged Mothers’ Day adventure was a perfect metaphor for entrepreneurial leadership that I would share. So, you could say that thoughts of you saved me as I gripped my lifeline, fingers nearly bleeding, over the next ninety minutes. Let me share with you what I learned about fear and the requirement to get through it in order to arrive at a passionately desired destination ahead.

1. Don’t think. Thinking did me absolutely no good. The only way I ever successfully made it across was when I “just did it”—just plowed through the fear (it genuinely felt like plowing through). When I stood still, examining the length of the board and the distance from it to the next one, and the possibility of stepping onto the wire instead…the board shook like crazy. My true life-lines were the guides, and they’d call up to me to tell me this. “Keep moving. When you stand still, it gets really shaky.” Of course, what did they know? But eventually, I listened, and when I just stopped thinking and kept moving, it was swift; it was easy; and for some reason, it just wasn’t scary. I suspect because it’s hard to move and think at the same time.

2. You’re it. At one point, I was seriously the most afraid I’ve ever been, and by that point, I’d taken to talking to myself. One of my dear guides was busy talking another mother off the ledge, and I realized I was alone. I had no idea how I was going to take my next step. I was absolutely emotionally paralyzed. And then I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and said out loud, “No one can get you through this but you. No one.” It wasn’t some quaint affirmation you might say to yourself from the safety of the ground. This was an irrefutably true statement. Short of their getting some ladder and rescuing me, in that moment, there was nothing they could have done for me. Their soothing encouragement couldn’t have helped me with this. And they weren’t coming with any ladder. It was a defining moment for me, realizing that only I was going to save me.  There was no other resource except the one between my ears. I heard myself saying, firmly, “You just have to take the step. You just have to do it. There is no other option.” A fierce pragmatist if nothing else, I got how true that was and just stepped over my fear. It felt very much like that—a barrier I couldn’t dissolve or mitigate, but could step over. And did.
3. Find your own way. I heard myself chatting to myself, “Just find the way that works for you,” as I walked across these ropes and boards. Sometimes I would do what was plainly expected, other times, I would walk on the outside wires only or walk sideways. Whatever worked. There was no right way.

4. That said, there were undeniably easier ways to go that I didn’t always take—and when I did, I learned that there is absolutely no shame in taking the easy route!

5. It gets easier. I got used to being in a constant state of peril and soon it stopped feeling fatal. In fact, in time, I rather deftly made it to the other sides! It got easier.

6. Victim thinking escalates with witnesses. This one is a hard one to admit, but being highly self-reflective, I caught myself expressing more fear when the guides were paying attention to me. When they were busying saving the soul of another, I just got down to the business at hand and was efficient and dutiful. Interesting, yes?

7. Just leap. The zip-line portion of the courses was by far the most fun—but first, I had to leave the safety of the platform, and the only way to do that was with a determination to “just leap!” I stood there at the first one, contemplating things, but then I just leapt. It was nothing more than a decision. Nothing.

8. Let yourself fly. During the first zip line, I was still focused on the fear of having let go, so I was at the other side before the rather delicious sensation of freedom caught up to me. So, on the second one, I made a promise to myself to relish the fun of the easy ride and celebrate the end of the hard work!

9. Excuses are the only things that paralyze. I came to the end of the first course and took a bathroom break. Remember, my daughter had suggested at the first platform that we could rap it up at this point, but I saw that she had gone on through. I knew, as soon as I stepped out of my harness for my break that I would be getting back in. No way was I going to let any fear stop me from finishing! I tripped a little on the way to the porta-potty and looked down to find a flap at the toe of my sneaker; my tread was peeling away—and I knew if they saw it, they wouldn’t let me continue. So, I reached down and pulled it off—the entire tread—because I was not going to let so insignificant of an excuse let me off. I’m proud of myself for that one!

10. Hold on to—and remember—what supports you. My daughter’s own pragmatism showed in the car ride back, as we talked about this. Apparently, she’d experienced next-to-no fear. “How is that possible?” I asked her. “Mom, there’s no way you can actually fall. That lifeline supports you the entire time.” I found it incredible—truly—that I had never once given that thought. I chose (and it was entirely a choice) to completely forget that I was fully supported all the way and I could not fall. I actually chose to think I was unsupported—and that’s why there was any fear at all. Big, big, big life lesson there, wouldn’t you say?

I went home and took a luxurious thirty-minute nap, a delicious hot shower, and had a glass of wine at dinner to celebrate my victory. I recalled, as I fell into bed at midnight, dead-exhausted and aching, how I’d called down to one of the guides: “Why on God’s green earth did I decide to do this for Mother’s Day????”

He said, “Because it’s a gift to yourself.”

He knew then what I couldn’t—and was so right. Never again can I feel fear about taking any step–in business and leadership or otherwise–and not remember every single one of the lessons I learned forty feet in the air. The biggest one? Remember what supports me and remember when it comes to fear, only I can get myself out.

I am talking a lot these days about Leadership Self-Mastery. One cannot lead until one leads himself. One cannot influence until he influences himself. That’s what I did this Mother’s Day.