Archive for the ‘Comfort Zone Stretches’ Category

Bus Adventure Day

Friday, July 22nd, 2011

If you’ve been following along the past few months, you’ve seen bits and pieces of what I’ve come to call my bus insanity. It’s not a very nice name, but it is what it felt like.

 

When I decided to move to Austin, I decided to go carless. Austin has Car2Go, buses, bike lanes and it’s pretty pedestrian friendly too. Downtown, there are also taxis and pedicabs. For longer trips there’s the train, car rental, and of course the airport.

Freak Out

Only, it turned out, I was freaked out by riding the bus. Well, that’s not exactly right. I was freaked out by the idea of doing it wrong. Yep, that again. See, there are so many tiny details involved in riding the bus and I *hate* doing things wrong. Even things that I would forgive of anyone else, or not even notice if anyone else did them.

 

And so, the chorus began:

  • Do I just stand at the bus stop?
  • Do I flag down the bus?
  • How do I pay?
  • What if the bus-ticket-machine-thing won’t take my money?
  • How will I know when my stop is coming up?
  • When do I ring for my stop?
  • How do I ring for my stop?

And then, the stress and accompanying fatigue and pain. Mercy.

Break it Down, Um… No

Usually, I would break it down into smaller steps. And I tried. I went on the bus with a friend. I watched people at bus stops as I was walking places. Only, there’s only so much you can break it down. Once you get on the bus, you eventually have to get off. Then you have to get home.

 

I finally realized that 1) I needed to have absolutely no other pressure on me that day. No plan to be anywhere specific and any particular point in time and 2) the only way to do that was block out a whole day for it.

You’ve Got Two Choices of What You Can Do

There are two ways to look at anything you are going to do. You can look at it a something you have to get through. Or, you can look at it as an adventure. I’m sure you can guess which one you are more likely to repeat once you’re done.

 

If I just rode the bus to the store and back (one ride, a half a mile each way), it would have been something I had managed to get through, something I could check of my list of having accomplished. It would have been unlikely that it would have much easier for me the next time.

 

So, I had a Bus Adventure Day. First, I went to the yarn store, which, for me is wonderfully comforting. One bus east and a transfer south. Of course, I missed my stop by one, I think. I’m still not real good at reading where I need to stop on the map on my phone, but I have since discovered that the list style directions give the cross streets for the stop.

Cranky Pants and Gingerbread Pancakes

There had been some people on the second bus who were cranky and being rather loud about it and that kind of threw me for a bit. So, I went to a cafe and had breakfast in the afternoon, a treat of gingerbread pancakes, fruit, bacon and tea. If I had been getting through my bus difficulties, I wouldn’t have stopped because it would have just added more time, but since it was an adventure: Afternoon Breakfast!

 

On to the megastore. While I’m not a fan of megastores, they are the only places I know where you can buy recycling bags for the city pickup. When I got to my stop, there was a man singing and dancing and clapping. I’m still not sure if he was off his meds, on somebody else’s, or just enjoying himself without caring what anyone else thought.

Confuddled Won’t Kill You Either

I got confused on this one and got off the bus one stop too early, which wouldn’t have been too bad, only it was about 100º F, so, it was kind of icky. Also worth mentioning, I need to get a water bottle. It’s too freaking hot in this state to wander around waterless, it’s dangerous and also, pointless.

 

On the way home I managed to miss a stop which meant I had to run to catch the next bus. Also, the talking people, they have made me decide to start wearing earbuds from now on. I really don’t wish to have another conversation about enemies. Especially ones who are imagined. Um, yeah. That.

The Truth About Adventures

Things I know about adventures:

1) Things will go wrong.

2) It doesn’t matter when things go wrong, since it’s all part of the adventure.

 

Riding a bus isn’t much of an adventure for most people, but it worked perfectly for me.

 

Is there anything you would like to turn into an adventure, or maybe already have? Please share in the comments, I’d love to hear about it.

 

Looking to stretch your comfort zone in tiny ways and pick up some resource recommendations? Sign up for Inching Along, and every other week I’ll send you one small (possibly even fun) challenge that you can easily accomplish plus other nuggets that I find.

You know, you can get updates by email or RSS. Yay, updates!

In the comments:

We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud. What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)

 

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I’m Calling it a Win

Monday, March 14th, 2011

I really wanted to call this post Glitter and Blood, but, really, I it was only a few drops. You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? Right, starting at the beginning, then.

The Beginning

So, as most of you know, for my 34th birthday, I bought a costume that would allow me to ride on a float in the Carnival Parade in Rio de Janeiro. On Saturday I went to pick up my costume, but it hadn’t been delivered to the company I had ordered it from. In the five hours I waited before they told me that, I met some awesome women who were dancing with the same school I was, one New Yorker from Oklahoma (Jen) and two Swedes (Ulrica and Anna) who share my middle name (Theresa).

Twenty six hours later, they arrived with our costumes, sort of. You see, we had ordered finely crafted Carnival bikinis with feather headdresses and collars, ornate gloves and boots. They brought us serged squares of nylon with scraps of fabric as straps and ties, gold lame hooker boots and a bird’s nest cap with a mohawk of feathers, all adorned with craft store leaves, attached with hot glue. Right.

Choosing to Have Fun

While the quality was craptacular, the ultimate issue was do we choose to be pissed off or go and try to have fun. We chose to go, since we had all traveled to Brazil specifically for the parade. After Ulrica told them precisely how ashamed they should be for calling that a Carnival costume, she made them take us to the Sambadrome by taxi and then walk us to our floats, as Jen was on a different one than the rest of us.

After changing our clothes on the side of the freeway in that way that only women know how to do, we waited. People came up and asked to have their pictures taken with us, since we were with Mangueira, one of the most respected schools in the parade. Not that you would know it from the way they handled the costumes or even the floats this year.

Up, Up, and a Wait

We climbed on our float, (note: I do not recommend combining five inch platform boots and scaling a ladder made of scraps of left over wood) and were told to find the spots we wanted. We found three together and the guy helped Ulrica on to her platform and left. So, we waited. Again.

During the intervening four hours we tried to get someone to help us up or at least bring us the ladder, but no. Then, as we pull up to the entrance to the Sambadrome, they suddenly realize that no one is at the top of the float and a dozen men swarm the float and try to get us to climb the float itself to get to the platforms. In our boots.

Right.

So, up the ladder, I went, while a man held it in place. Only, when I got to the top of the ladder, there was nothing to hold on to and I didn’t have any leverage to hoist myself up onto the platform. One man grabbed one hand and another grabbed the other, dragging me up, but since my knees weren’t clear of the platform I got a bit bruised and scratched up in the process.

It was Just a Bit of Blood

With one knee bleeding I made my way over to the other side and found an empty platform. Soon, we were off, lurching along with the platforms swaying as we went. And with my elevated adrenaline level following close behind.

As the platform swayed and my legs wobbled, at first all I could do was manage to stay upright. You see, I’m almost all leg, and when you add the five inches of boot to my original 5’8” you (I) get a rather high center of gravity. I also got a bit of a pole to grab onto for balance, only it was so short I had to grab it with the tips of my fingers. Not highly effective for managing balance.

We danced and sang and I kept an eye on where the ground dancers in front of us stopped so that I could brace myself for our next lurching halt. While I smiled and looked out into the audience, I would occasionally see people trying to get me to be more enthusiastic, but since my choice was showing enthusiasm or remaining vertical, I chose vertical.

The End

I knew I wanted to be in Carnival to see if I could do it. And I gave myself permission to stop at any point. I could in fact walk away, whenever I chose. And for me, having that freedom made continuing that much easier. Also, buy the time the parade started, I was so irritated with Manguiera, I did not care at all what anyone thought. So freeing.

 

While, obviously this was a big one, we have opportunities to see what we are able to do, all the time. Can you correct the waiter when he brings out the wrong order, can you stand up to ask your question at the next conference you attend, can you write a letter to the editor and send it in? What is something you would love to know if you can do? I really want to know, please tell me in the comments.

Looking to stretch your comfort zone in tiny ways and pick up some resource recommendations? Sign up for Inching Along, and every other week I’ll send you one small (possibly even fun) challenge that you can easily accomplish plus other nuggets that I find.
You know, you can get updates by email or RSS. Yay, updates!

In the comments:
We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud. What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)

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On the Downbeat

Wednesday, March 2nd, 2011

What do you do when the fear hits?

I haven’t said anything on here because it feels like, the more I talk about something, the less likely I am to follow through on it. Like, there’s a point where having talked about it so much is like having experienced it.

But, as wound up as I am and with less than a week to go, either I’m going to go or not. One post won’t make or break my resolve. I’ve signed up to be on a float in the Carnaval Parade in Rio.

That’s why I’m memorizing a song in Portuguese, a language I barely know.

That’s why I’m futzing about tan lines, something I can assure you has never happened before. Ever.

That’s why I keep wanting to hide further and further inside, away from all the people who come out for the neighborhood parades.

Will I or Won’t I?

Truthfully, I have no idea if I’ll really be able to get up there and be on the float. But I have to try, for me. You see, this year, my birthday falls during Carnaval. The day after I plan to ride around the Sambadrome in an outfit that looks remarkably like a pair of skivvies with a headdress, I will turn 34.

I took it as a sign… the timing, not the costume. And let’s be honest, I wanted to take it as a sign. If I can muster the intestinal fortitude to be *in* Carnaval, then I can pull off just about anything. Anywhere. Ever. A true test of knowing that something is more important than the fear.

Tuesday Will Get Here, No Matter What

When I had to make presentations in high school, I would get physically ill. Like, running to the bathroom ill. And every time I would think of the presentation, my stomach would drop. I was too scared to prepare, thereby creating my own worst nightmare. Then I had a realization.

Tuesday will get here, no matter what I do. I started saying that because the presentation I had coming up was on a Tuesday, and I still say it that way. And if Tuesday is going to keep coming, then I might as well do my best to prepare so that I can do my best once it’s Tuesday.

No Place to Hide

When we think about the things that make us nervous, we want to hide. And while hiding can be easy, it mostly doesn’t help. So, now, when I get nervous, I listen to the song while reading my transliteration of it. Transcribing it into pronouncable chunks was my first baby step, then just listening, now practicing.

And, you wanna know what? I’m getting it! Which is good since my parade day is Sunday. Truthfully, I think I can do this. And most days, I feel I can do it too. When I start to feel scared or even, just nervous, I start playing the song and it reminds me that I know more than I think I do. And that preparation is the best way to ground myself in the now and be able to move forward, one samba step at a time.

Since I really want to know, I’ll ask you again,

What do you do when the fear hits?

Looking to stretch your comfort zone in tiny ways and pick up some resource recommendations? Sign up for Inching Along, and every other week I’ll send you one small (possibly even fun) challenge that you can easily accomplish plus other nuggets that I find.
You know, you can get updates by email or RSS. Yay, updates!

In the comments:

We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud. What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)

 

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Benefits of Risk

Friday, January 14th, 2011

You don’t consider yourself a risk taker? Me either. Only, there are benefits to taking risks. Ever wanted to learn another language?

There are Benefits, I Swear

The more willing you are to take risks in speaking, the more quickly you will learn. It has to do with ‘active filters’. High active filters keep you afraid to speak because you might do it wrong. So, you don’t practice, because of the active filters, because of the fear. Even when you try, you get nervous, so you screw up, so you get more nervous, and screw up more and eventually just stop talking, because you no longer feel like you’re making sense.

Low active filters, on the other hand, allow you to try to speak and if you make a mistake, you just try again in a different way. You learn more and more quickly since you’re more relaxed about the whole thing. You’re trying more and getting in more practice. One dangling participle at a time.

In Front of Everybody

And, you guessed it, this applies to pretty much anything you want to do/learn. If you don’t ask or try, then you don’t get anything done. How do you learn to eat with chopsticks if all you do is stare at them. Sure, you can start by practicing in private, but take your newly sprouted skills out in public as soon as you can stand it. Even if just for a little bit at a time.

How about meeting new people? As you may know, I’m planning my first two trips to the US for this year. And while I’m there, I want to meet people. I want to meet y’all and some people I’ve encountered on Twitter and Facebook. So I posted my status update letting you know where I’ll be an when. (Wait, you’re not a fan of The Social Caterpillar on Facebook? Better get on that then, I post all kinds of goodies there that I don’t post anywhere else.)

Can You See My Slip?

The other thing I did, I remembered that Jared Lazaro lives in Cali, and if you recall (or read the page linked to his name), I wanted to meet him. Now, I could try to will him to ask me to come for a visit, or I could use my energy in a more productive way. He had friended me a while back and I decided to post the meeting request on his wall.

Yes, I do see how people could mistake me for being an extravert, or really outgoing. I’ll tell you a secret, it’s me playing pretend.  I ask what would I do if I were outgoing? Then I do it anyway. See the time frame between my post and his response? Yeah, I spent that whole time wondering if I had creeped him out. End result: risk = getting to meet a new friend.

Next time you’re thinking “Do I really want to X?” try changing it to “How do I want to do X?” The risks are very often worth the rewards.

You know, you can get updates by email or RSS. Yay, updates!

In the comments:

We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud. What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)

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One Foot in Front of the Other

Monday, November 22nd, 2010

Gravel-like lava rock covers the volcano Cerro Negro in Leon, Nicaragua. Because of this gravely covering, most of the hostels offer hikes to the top where you ride either a modified snow board or toboggan down. So, you know I had to look into it further.

Since I had to turn back while hiking up Santa Maria in Guatemala, I was concerned about making it to the top. And then there is the small matter of never having done any kind of boarding activity. Oh, and the fact that I quit breathing when I ride roller coasters.

Fun and scary

Once again, it would definitely stretch my comfort zone. So, like any good internet obsessed researcher, I looked it up on YouTube. It looked fun, but not overwhelmingly scary. Then I met a woman in Granada who had just come from Leon and she assured me that she had made the climb with a woman who had asthma, and just taking it slowly, I should be fine.

And then, I eavesdropped on a conversation between the guide and a couple of the adventure guides who were in Leon on vacation. Sitting down was supposed to be more fun that standing up anyway. So, with all of my concerns addressed in one way or another, I got myself signed up to slide down a live volcano on a wooden sled.

Announcing My Fears

My personal solution to my fears that I will slow the whole group down and irritate everyone, is to let them know before hand that I have exercise induced asthma and just need to take it slowly and take rest breaks. Most of the people I’ve met on these kinds of trips love outdoor adventures and really want everyone else to enjoy them too. Giving them a heads-up lets them know what’s going on so that they don’t start to worry when I lag behind.

I’m tall and I have a naturally long stride which gives me a tendency to walk quickly. Only, going uphill, I start to get winded almost immediately. And this time, of course, getting winded made me doubt if I could get to the top. It seemed so far up there and I had just started. So, I started chanting in my head, “little steps, little steps” and as I stumbled through the gravel, it became “little steps, pick your feet up, little steps, pick your feet up” and upon seeing everyone waiting for me at one point, “little steps, pick your feet up, you can do this.”

This particular trip, we had several snow boarding teachers/white water rafting guides with us. After they would fall back to take pictures, they would check on me as they caught back up to the group. Since I was going slowly, I was able to carry on a conversation without wheezing and they would tell me to take my time, we were in no hurry. (Although, the guide did eventually take my board for me. Like I was gonna argue with that.)

Taking Advantage of a Situation

We were short one protective suit and when I got to the top, I volunteered to let someone use my suit on the first run down, since almost everyone wanted to do two runs I could take a long rest at the top and go down with everyone else after they made a second climb up.

Being alone on top of a volcano is an awesome experience and I strongly advise taking the opportunity if it arises. Also, since everyone else and made one run already, I got to benefit from their experience, without having to make the second climb, which wouldn’t have happened anyway.

Ready, Set, Go

So, on went the bright green coveralls (Go Team Relish!), gardening gloves, and dust goggles and we tromped over to the starting point. When my turn came, I had a bit of a time getting my backside on the board before it started sliding. Once situated, it was actually fun. You can control your speed by sitting up to go slower or leaning back to go faster. With a foot to one side and a hand to the other you can steer. And really, there is nothing to get in your way, so nothing to do but enjoy the ride on the way down.

Whether you think you can or you think you can’t you’re probably right. -Henry Ford

I love baby steps. With them, I feel like I can accomplish almost anything, probably because I can. Literally, they make me slow down and take the climb at a more reasonable pace, but figuratively, they allow me to break any challenge down into easy pieces (my apologies to Richard Feinman). And when you focus on what you know you can do, your doubts shrink and you can replace them with the next little thing you can do.

What have you been holding back on doing that you could accomplish if you broke it down some more?
You know, you can get updates by email or RSS. Yay, updates!

In the comments:

We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud. What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)

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Posted in Comfort Zone Stretches |

Never is a Looooooong Time

Saturday, November 13th, 2010

As you probably know, I make an effort to stretch my comfort zone on a fairly regular basis. If you don’t know, you may want to poke around a bit more.

Never, never, never…

I once swore that I would NEVER jump off or out of anything, ever. Yes, well, um, Never Shout Never? (I could listen to them on repeat for hours, and in fact have, but I digress.) And then, I found seventeen platforms connected by cables, neck-breaking-distance from the ground. Also known as Heavens-to-Betsy-It’s Really-Pretty-Up-Here and sometimes, even, as zip-lining.

Right, so, I spent a week in Granada, Nicaragua, most of it trying to find a zip-line tour group I could join. (One of the hazards of traveling alone, you usually need a minimum of 2-4 people to start a tour group. I’m working on acquiring the ability to ask around and see if anyone wants to go do stuff. When I make it there, you can be sure I’ll write about it, and possibly throw a party, with fireworks.)

Interesting doesn’t always mean crazy

I wanted to zip-line because, in my former life, spent hiding under the bed, I would have said, something like “Oh, that’s… interesting… you’re going to climb into a harness and attach yourself to a cable and then slide through the tree tops. Why, exactly? Never mind, I’ll wait here, you go ahead.”

Now, since it fell distinctly into the not-gonna-kill-me category and it was supposed to be beautiful, I kinda needed to do it. So, I climbed into a harness, attached myself to a cable, and slid through the tree tops. And it was… funish. You know, it was… similar to having fun.

And, a sharp left

I love driving. No destination, radio cranked up, speeding a bit, just… driving. I love it. In a way that my father could have never imagined. “The speed limit for this curve is 45 mph. You’re going to need to speed up.” Right. That.

My dad *made* me learn how to drive. He was leaving town for a long weekend and I had to go to school. The thought made my stomach all icky and I had no real interest, except, I liked high school. Yes, folks, at seventeen, I liked high school and didn’t want to drive. I’m surprised they didn’t revoke my teen-card.

Anyway, driving = scary, tortuous, basically the opposite of fun. With a boyfriend who lived about an hour away, and parents who were convinced that I would never drive and so, gave me the car whenever I wanted it, I got in weekly practice. Soon enough, I had my own car and would just go drive. I’d pick a direction and drive for an hour or so, and then try and make my way home. And I got to where I loved driving.

Cozying up to my discomfort

Ick turned fun. In truth, it probably goes back to poking at an idea until I feel comfortable with it. I get the feeling that zip-lining could be the same way. It’s difficult for me to enjoy the view until I feel like I’m able to ride the cable without spinning around. I can see the trees and they’re pretty, but I need to feel capable before I can truly enjoy the ride.

Sometimes we just need to get comfortable first. With an idea, an activity, ourselves. Do you need to get comfortable with an idea before you can enjoy it, or do you just jump in and have fun? Please, tell me your story, I’d love to hear it.

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Under Water Breathing, or Not

Monday, November 1st, 2010
Sometimes My Lack of Awareness is Astounding

When I found out that Honduras is one of the cheapest places to get your diving certification, I decided to give it a go. I was headed there anyway, so why not?

Well, I mean, other than the stories that my parents can tell. Like the one where they took me to infant swim class which didn’t go so well and years later when I found the floaties in a closet, I started screaming. Apparently I was so scared of the little bits of thin orange plastic, I sounded like someone was trying to kill me.

Or how I wouldn’t wash my face above my nose because I was convinced that having water on my face, put there with my own hands, would cause me to drown. Makes it kind of hard to believe I’m a Pisces.

Interestingly enough, I blocked both of those stories until after my first confined water dive. Where I panicked. I got in my gear, hesitated a bit, took my long step of the boat, did my buddy checks, deflated my BCD (the floaty vest thing for diving), and my brain went wild.

Holding My Own Head Under Water

As soon as my face was under water, it was like I couldn’t get enough air, like there wasn’t enough air in the world. Logically, I knew I was safe: I was in water shallow enough to stand in, I had a functioning regulator, I had at least three people near me who knew exactly what they were doing. And still, my brain started screaming at me “You’re under water, quit trying to breathe! What’s wrong with you, stop it, stop it now! You’re under water, you can’t breathe here!”

And so I popped back up.

And tried again.

And pretty much immediately, popped back up.

Can’t vs. Don’t, Round Two

It wasn’t that I couldn’t do it, but I couldn’t do it that way. I needed to circle the idea and poke at it a bit. (A point here about finding the right instructor for you, really look for someone you react well to. I had no idea that I would freak, but everyone I dealt with at the shop, Parrot’s Dive Center, seemed laid back and capable of adjusting to any situation, so I had felt comfortable with the shop.)

Alfred handed me off to Larson to take me for a swim, just with my face in the water. We swam a bit and Larson pointed out pretty little skittering fish. Then we went down a bit with my whole head under but still in water I could stand in. More swimming, more fish, and lots of sand. And then we went down a bit further and found some little sting rays. I never thought I’d say that sting rays are cute, but those were.

By the time the rest of my class had finished their skills, I had calmed down enough to do mine one on one with Alfred while Delaney did surface skills with the others. I went under, repeating in my head “You are safe. You have plenty of air. You can do this.” until I actually believed it. I also fully engaged in the ‘What’s Next?’ method which seemed to be Alfred’s way of teaching in that situation too.

Triumph, Not Just a Puppet

I did my surface skills the next day while the others snorkeled and was caught back up. Five days and one hurricane later, I’ve got my PADI Open Water Certification, and a list of specialties I want to try: Night, Wreck, Cave, and Ice.

Whatever you want to do, you can get there. No promises that it’ll be easy, but the worthwhile stuff hardly ever is. If there’s something you’ve been working towards or thinking about going after, please think about sharing in the comments, I’d love to hear about it.

You know, you can get updates by email or RSS. Yay, updates!

In the comments:

We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud. What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)

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Posted in Comfort Zone Stretches |

Getting back on that Horse, or, at Least a Horse

Monday, October 18th, 2010

To Foal, verb, also known as having a baby horse

When I was a girl, my mother’s father always kept at least one horse. And when his favorite horse foaled, I had my own horse too. Since I didn’t know how to ride and my mother wouldn’t let my grandfather teach me (he had many admirable qualities, but the ability to teach was not among them), the stable owner showed me the basics.

How do I stop this thing?

The very basics. A light quick pressure with my legs to go, pull the reigns left to go left, right to go right and both to stop. And then he said I was good to go. Sure. Good to go… stopping, however was another matter.

Papa and I went out and started slowly, but as we gradually gained speed I got more and more nervous and finally decided to slow down. Pull both reigns to stop. Except, I kept pulling, like using the breaks on my bike. And so, of course, upset by the pressure on her mouth, my horse reared, causing my grandfather’s horse to rear and then buck him.

I managed to stay on, but I was mortified. I had gotten my grandfather hurt. When I told Ori this story as an explanation as to why I hadn’t been on a horse in over twenty years, he acted like I’d lost my mind. “You stayed on the rearing horse. Your grandfather was the one who got bucked. You can do this.”

And dammit if he wasn’t right.

Getting back on… Oh, you know

While in San Pedro, I booked a horseback ride along Lake Atitlan to Playa de Oro, with a friend from Xela. At eight in the morning, we mounted our horses and started riding through the town, periodically ducking to avoid thwacking our heads on any low hanging signs. The horses knew the route and followed the whistles, clicks, and shushes from our guide.

As we rode, I would lightly draw the reigns to the right or left to stay to the side of the road, since we were sharing with cars. From street to highway to path, we made our way to the lake shore, or what would have been the shore if the lake hadn’t risen from all the rain. And after our requisite time staring at the lake and surrounding volcanoes, we began our return.

On our way back, our guide started his horse to trot, then a canter, and yes, even a gallop. Then, my hat flew off. As we made our way back to town, we would ride quickly and then slow down, then quicken our pace again. This starting and stopping allowed me to regain a bit of a sense of comfort before pulling myself to the edge of those boundaries again.

More than a riding lesson

When I know I can back out, even though I have no intention of doing so, I feel more comfortable, more able to keep going, pushing at the edges of my comfort zone. And now, having back up on a horse and down again, I’m looking for stables in Costa Rica, so that when I’m settled for a bit, I can take real lessons. Because there’s this two week ride through the Andes, and I need to know what I’m doing.

What have you been avoiding doing, something you want to get back to but feel nervous (or worse) about trying?
You know, you can get updates by email or RSS. Yay, updates!

In the comments:

We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud. What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)

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Posted in Comfort Zone Stretches |

Please, sink my ship…

Sunday, October 17th, 2010
Mice and Men and Me

I had planned to go up the Rio Dulce today to Livingston and on to Honduras today. Only the captain kept delaying the departure since I was going to be the only passenger. Once I realized we would arrive about half an hour before dark and would still need to find a hotel, go to an ATM, book a boat to Honduras for the next day, and get my passport stamped since the office is closed in the morning when the boat leaves at 7:30 I rescheduled for tomorrow morning.

“Some ships are designed to sink… others require our assistance.” ~Nathan Zelk

So, with several hours open before me, I started flipping through my Lonely Planet Honduras (woo hoo, personal digital libraries!), and found this (emphasis mine)

The Roatán Institute for Deepsea Exploration (RIDE; 3359-2887; www.stanleysubmarines.com; Half Moon Bay) is the fancy name for an American kid with a homemade submarine, which he uses to take tourists into the deep-sea trenches just off Roatán’s north shore. This is one of only two operations in the world that take Joe Public deeper than 91m. And the Idabel, as the sub is called, goes much deeper than that – more than 610m down, for as long as seven hours. There is no vegetation after 91m (and no light after 520m) and only the strangest of life forms: bioluminescent sponges, swimming sea cucumbers, six-gilled sharks, all amid huge limestone boulders and fossilized coral formations. The sub’s creator, Karl Stanley, got into submarine building with no formal engineering training, or even advanced welding, for that matter. He admits he has no special insurance (nor the interna- tional certification he’d need to secure it); if anything happens, says Karl, he’s not coming up either. The sub does have redundant safety systems and three days’ worth of air and supplies, and has had no major incidents in hundreds of outings. Up to three passengers can take trips of varying lengths: 11⁄2 hours to a maximum depth of 300m (L$7560), 21⁄2 hours to 460m (L$11,340), or 31⁄2 hours to 610m (L$15,120).

I wanna go!

Since the submarine holds three passengers and I don’t want to pay the whole fee myself, I’m looking for two people who will be on Roatan, Honduras during the next two weeks. I would love it if you would help me find them. If you’d like to help, please pass this post along. Thanks.

Of course, I’ll be posting photos and maybe a video from the trip if you want to travel vicariously .

You know, you can get updates by email or RSS. Yay, updates!

In the comments:

We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud.What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)

1
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Posted in Comfort Zone Stretches |

Standing on the Precipice

Tuesday, July 20th, 2010

I’m not a real big fan of hotel tours. Everyone loads into a van and you get shepherded around on someone else’s time frame. And if it’s raining or hot or real, the group wants to leave and you get dragged along too. So, when Olivier mentioned that he had taken the bus to Divisadero instead of a regular tour, Haruka, Yoko, Yuka, and I wanted all the details (it also didn’t hurt that he’s hot and French, so we would have politely stared and listened to pretty much anything he said). Olivier also showed us video he had taken of the canyon with his phone, that sealed it, we were going the next day.

We took the 10:30 bus which picked us up around 10:50 and I can’t sufficiently express my joy at the lovely padded seats, after our bicycling adventure. We arrived in Divisadero around noon and began scouting the comedores. Each food stall had red, blue, and yellow corn gorditas and quesadillas with carne asada and potatoes. Also on offer were chiles rellenos, aguas frescas, and fruit cups. When you’re there, pick what ever you want, it’s all wonderful.

After sating our bellies we started following the stone path around the canyon, walking to each lookout point and taking photos. Really, you can’t do justice to something this magnificent with a still shot, or even video. It’s like describing a wedding by taking home a slice of cake.

As we walked around the path, we noticed that the guardrail disappeared. You could walk right out on the rocks that made up the edge of the canyon. So, we did. Inches from a vast and probably deadly drop, without any sort of lawsuit preventing barrier. At first, stepping gingerly forward I walked out on my first precipice, in the most literal sense. Periodically, along the way we found more gaps in the rail, often stretching so far you couldn’t see one rail when standing at the end of another. And again we would venture a little further down the rocks, just because we could. The photos weren’t any better, in fact, at the lookout points, we had an even less obstructed view, as they hang over the actual canyon.

The sense of rebellion itself motivated us. Like little kids, sticking their toes in the lake when their parents aren’t looking. Knowing that in our respective countries this type of opportunity wouldn’t exist, we *had* to try it. I’ve never been particularly daring. And really, I’m still not. But sometimes, our shrink-wrapped, hand-sanitized, lawsuit-proof world is too much. Sometimes you have to stand on the edge of the canyon, knowing you could jump and just letting the wind blow.

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