Entering the Fear State...

The Quote: Every survival kit should include a sense of humour. Unknown

Entering the Fear State

 When I first started guiding in Alaska, I admit it. I was scared. In fact, scared is an understatement to downplay what I really felt – terror.

I had chosen as my introduction to Alaska to work in an area which had some of the highest concentrations of grizzly bears in North America. One grizzly every two kilometres. My imagination went into hyper drive over this consideration and the possible implications for myself and my guests. I have to be honest. It was mostly in consideration of my own well-being.

This was further reinforced on my first beach landing on one of the outer islands. When I walked up the beach from where I had landed my kayak, I saw a very well-worn trail in the forest. I found this very confusing as I was in what I perceived to be one of the more wild and rugged landscapes that I had experienced. And here was a trail that was about a meter wide and approximately thirty centimetres deep. This made no sense in my mind.

As I looked at the trail with more diligence, I noticed that there were no boot prints or signs of human activity. So, I asked my friend that I was working with as to whether he had seen something like this before and what was it – a trail? He looked at me a little quizzically and said, “it is from the grizzlies”. They had worn this trail over many years walking the perimeter of the island with their offspring in their constant vigilance for opportunity and food. As I looked closer, I could now see the larger footprints implanted with smaller patterns of cub following mother paw print for paw print.

Now this insight only heightened my skyrocketing anxiety about the bears that I was now certain were lurking behind every bush, tree and rock, waiting specifically for me to appear. This emotional drain of energy was exhausting, and I quickly realized that I needed to take action in some way. As to what this action was specifically, I was not certain at that moment, only that I had to do something. Or leave this place.

We were seeing bears. A lot of bears. On the beaches mostly and near the creeks, and at times very close to where we were camped. Their presence was also very evident in the form of ripped up dirt mounds and profuse piles of bear scat almost everywhere. There was also the sense of their presence that permeated the environment. It felt different from what I was used to. It was a very strong sense of being vulnerable.

In many ways I was deeply awed at the abundance of these magnificent creatures, though also very aware that I was not number one on the food chain in any shape or form. This made me feel very humble and trepidatious. Also, very tense. Not an ideal state for being responsible for others in this frame of mind and having to make risk management decisions on an almost constant basis. A calm mind is a necessity. Something had to change.

The change that I saw necessary for myself was to step into the fear. To face it and confront it. Most of this fear seemed to be an internal state. On a rational level I was fairly certain that the bears did not have it in for me as an individual, or that it was personal. At least this was how I began to work things through in my mind. I also needed a plan of how to move through these feelings and insecurities.

My plan was to separate my tent from the group at night so that I would be camped alone with my racing mind, and without the comfort of the group space. So, this is what I did. I found a spot in the forest away from the group and set up my tent. And I prepared myself for what I was certain would be my eminent death or at least a severe mauling that evening. Gathered my thoughts and my fears and tucked my body and my demons into my sleeping bag. Acutely aware that my only barrier of defense was a thin layer of nylon tent wall between myself and the abyss of darkness surrounding me.

The night was long, not much sleep and a certainty that every noise that I heard in the forest was the inevitable encounter about to begin. A twig breaking, a rustling of the trees in the wind, or perhaps even the sound of the waves on the rocky shore were all indicators that the moment of encounter was now. What was most likely a mouse was certainty in my mind and imagination that a grizzly was about to tear through my tent and my being.

The sun did rise, a new beginning and I was still intact in my body and my mind. I felt a sense of accomplishment, though not confident in my bear inner management success. So, another night, alone in the forest. Night two was actually more restful and not quite so fitful. Moments of rest and each noise in the forest became mostly just a noise, and not something larger and more ominous. In the morning I felt somewhat rested and also started to move into an awareness of relaxation into the place and my inner confidence.

Night three was a similar ritual of camping alone. Peeing around the perimeter of my sleeping area to mark my boundary. My space in the forest from the night creatures, and my mantra of respect and appreciation for sharing this place with the grizzlies, and my inner turmoil.

This night I dreamt of the grizzlies. I dreamt their dreams. Their dreams of the sacredness of the land, the connection of each species to the other, and the sense of belonging. Dreams of joy, passion and also struggle, and defeat. There were no dreams of violence, mauling malintent or anything at all except respect and humility for each of us being a creature of the forest. A shared space and a shared respect for one another, bear and man.

When I awoke to a new day, it was also to a new me. The fear had evaporated into the nightscape and the dreamtime. The dreamtime of an interweaving of man and bear. The shared rhythms of life and the destines which would either interweave by design or not.

That day as I scoured the horizons and the beaches for bears it was no longer with a wild sense of trepidation. It was with an understanding of being in a place where I was not the host, merely a guest. And with this understanding came an awareness that if I was a respectful guest, the bears were more than gracious hosts.

The Book: The Wild Edge of Sorrow – Rituals of Renewal and the Sacred Work of Grief Francis Weller

I found this to be a profound read on many levels. On the first level and I am not sure if it was a result of reading the book, but I felt a deep heaviness within my being. This heaviness in fact made me feel somewhat adrift in my life.

The second level was with a reading of this book I began to develop a better understanding and also relationship with grief. I learned of the five gates of grief, and how and why to approach and ultimately step through these gates in community.

I also noticed that while reading this book my time spent in the dreamtime was much richer. I was remembering instances of my life that had been until this point hidden from my view. It was as if by recognizing and acknowledging my inner grief from past experiences, and the state of the natural world that I was becoming aware. Not only how much I was losing by not being in touch with these inner states, but also how much I had to gain in my life by steeping into my grief. An excellent read, and very insightful 5/5

Helping others and helping ourselves...

Quote: “What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger”. Nietzsche

The Action: Separation / Connection / Separation

I watched for a few moments as perhaps eight to ten individuals skied past the figure in the ditch. This person was what seemed obvious to me in some sort of distress. The flailing of arms and legs, like some insect trapped on its back trying to right itself. The movements disjointed, frantic at one moment and then cumbersome and awkward the next.

I stopped close, yet still unobserved, as the struggle continued, and now I could also hear the ragged breathing, and the sputter like gasps. I watched the dance of futility with the ever-shaping snow, that had form though no substance to push against for leverage. Each wrestle with the snow seemed to be victorious for the snow, and a loss for the now recognized older man, as he seemed to grow more fatigued before my eyes in those few moments.

Now it seemed the battle was completely lost as he seemed to give up the struggle half buried in the loose drifting snow. I could almost taste the bile of defeat that was beginning to permeate from his body. Perhaps aware of the futility against an abyss of declining years, and perhaps the vitality of youth and strength that at one time would have led to victory over self and the moment.

I reached out and touched his shoulder with my gloved hand, and squeezed gently, yet firmly to convey that I was there to help, to connect with him in that moment. A bridge and perhaps a connection of unity against the moment of despair.

The struggle now became more coordinated, synchronous to my directions and encouragement, of voice and my hands, shoulder. The first attempt to stand failed, yet in that moment there was a glimpse, a sense of accomplishment. Momentum in the direction of triumph.

I moved in closer, physically and in presence, using my body and my grip as gestures of support, encouragement and community. As I did this, I became aware of how close he was to exhaustion. His body felt weak, spent and on the verge of collapse, yet still a pulse of perseverance and resilience.

The final push. His body weight shifted from his own self-contained struggle to an active dependence on my strength and the leverage that I offered with my arm and shoulder. He began to rise, legs shaking, loose and uncoordinated, frail and somewhat splayed for support.

He began to gain momentum, certainty as I am sure he sensed the victory close, the snow releasing its grip, and vacuous envelope on his body and his being. In a moment it was over. He was standing, free upright, and I could see and feel the autonomy rushing in to fill the vacuum of earlier defeat with strength and certainty. He was back in the world of familiar, upright and victorious over the moment.

He now began to shift his gaze and for the first time, was willing to look into my face and ultimately my eyes. My mind registered a tired face, pale, stubble on his cheeks and a hint of fear receding from his eyes as he began to relax into the moment.

As I looked into his eyes, they were a very pale blue and “open”. He let me in and showed me who he was as a man, a human being at that moment. Vulnerable, trusting, scared and yet resilient, proud, obviously accomplished in other circumstances.

In that moment of our eyes meeting I recognized my own vulnerability, my fears and weaknesses and the nobility of being human in the presence of another. The veil of separation was lifted for a brief few seconds and I had a glimpse of our human community. That we need one another in the so-called good times and also those times where there are challenges and obstacles to be overcome. We need one another to lean on and to be leaned on. That there is no shame, no inferiority to need help or to offer help to another. It is not a gesture of weakness to need another but a symbol of strength and character to reach out, to connect and to touch another’s heart.

I heard the words “thank you” gently murmured under the sound of the wind and the snow as I released my grip on his shoulder and his spirit. And also, in that moment I watched him shake himself, much like a dog stepping from a river to shed the water from his coat. And as I watched him shake, I realized what he was shaking. It was the vulnerability and the exposure to another to settle again into his armour of being and I could also feel the moment and the window close so gently on connection. To separation once more.

The Book: The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse. Charlie Mackesy

A wonderful simple story about the four characters mentioned in the title, and their adventures. Perhaps written for children, though perhaps also very insightful for the adults as well. Generational is a word that comes to mind, for all ages and stages of life.

The importance of kindness, self-love, and true values of what should be important in life for each of us, though often forgotten. A wonderful, important read, excellent illustrations and a style that is inviting, insightful and timeless. 5/5

Reflections

The Quote:

“Life may not be the party that we hoped for, but while we’re here we should dance”. Unknown

The Action:

Where life will take us, we never know. All I know is that we are responsible for our decisions, and that our decisions are born from choices that life presents to us. And the choices that we make, present to us numerous and varied destinies, not better or worse than another, merely different. A different future, a different past, and a different now.

And so, it came to be, that I was resting from life on that log, on a beach on the pacific coast of British Columbia. I had watched and tasted the myriad of moods of mother nature from my vantage point. I had dined on fine sunshine and had blue sky for dessert. I had crawled into myself under the intensity of Spring storms, and the pounding of waves along the shoreline. I had lived on the edge and bore the scars of moments fully lived.

Life had treated me well on this journey, unbiased, compassionate and honest in its intent. I had seen incredible sights; experienced the magic of dreams actualized and tasted the sour bile of defeat. I had felt the pulse of the soul of the Universe, through my being, and shouted back “Thank you for this incredible life”!

I have come to understand truths and speak the language of dreams. The fragility of my own heart, and its resilience as well. And I have learned not to deceive myself into being anyone else, other than who I am. It has been an incredible journey, of laughter, tears, and humility for the world we live in, and the gifts that we receive every day. If our eyes and hearts are open to the magic.

I have come to the understanding that love is not a thing, a quality or a myth. It is a reality that is born in one’s heart, in one’s soul, in the place where legends begin, and never end. A place where wizard’s council, and shamans dance for the sheer delight of the celebration of the ritual of life. I have come to the realization that life and love are one and the same. It is a being true to one’s self, and one’s unique journey and destiny in this world, that presents to us, the magic of this world.

The Book: “The Little Prince” Antoine St Exupery

This is one of my all time favourites. I have without exaggeration read this book about fifty times. It is a life book for myself that I continually go back to when I feel overwhelmed, confused or just want some reassurance that life doesn’t have to be so complicated.

I was introduced to this book when I was a child by my parents, and have had multiple copies, and given away an equal amount to others.

It is a book supposedly written for children, though really for adults. The simplicity and elegance of the story, and the many life lessons, simplicity, uniqueness, love and appreciation are a few examples. The test of the boa constrictor and the secret of the fox and the meaning of life. I am sure that I never stop rereading this wonderful story written by a philosopher and a pilot. 5/5

Raven's Circle

Quote:

“You see things as you are, not as they are”. Anthony de Mello

The Action:

I pushed the last kayak from the beach with a feeling of satisfaction and contentment. I was now alone. Only for moments and I bit deeply into the emptiness of the moment. The sound of the surge, the rocks whispering the caress of the sea, the fog draped over the beach and the islands.

I turned to walk to my kayak and at that moment a large raven landed on the beach about twenty feet away from where I was. He had been close all morning with his partner. Silent and aware. His partner more shy, elusive and not so bold to be on the beach. Still, embraced by the boughs of the trees.

He was beautiful. Shiny and iridescent black. Liquid eyes with intelligence, depth of soul expressed by a majesty of presence. The pair had been flying the beach all morning waiting for us to go to see what treasure we had left behind to explore and perhaps eat.

As the raven walked along the sand like a rolling sailor on a ship at sea, I looked at him. As I looked at him, I spoke his name. I told him how beautiful, intelligent and wise he was. I thanked him for sharing his beach with us these past few days. As I spoke these words, I felt them leave my lips though I did not feel them connect to my soul. I knew they were the words that I wanted to say but somehow, I could not form the connection with my heart. I was tired.

My lips continued to open, and the words continued to fall out. The raven continued on his walk in the sand above me. The raven had heard these words before. He tolerated other people’s presence on his beach before. He was removed, distant, we had no connection. There was no association of acknowledge with the noisy and intrusive biped – human.

The words from my lips started to wither and eventually I fell silent. And as I fell silent, I sensed a change in the energy of the raven. I was now noticed. I was now a presence. An energy and a being, as to being the former nuisance and irritation.

I held my hand towards the raven palm facing the pacing bird and I felt a rush of intense energy captured in my hand from the bird. The raven was no longer walking around me, he was now walking through me.

He paused slowly angled toward me with an eye holding my soul with its wisdom. He started to walk a half circle only feet away from me. And as his pacing got closer to me, he started to talk to me. Glock uttered every few steps with a bobbing of his head to reinforce the significance of the message.

I could feel his energy, his dignity, presence and magic like a liquid of illumination washing over me with warmth, intelligence and love. I felt a blending of our spirits and our lives as he circled me in the sand. A connection. A dance and an intimacy of species.

The melody continued for perhaps half a minute, a few steps, Glock, a nodding of the body as I held my hand towards him in reverence, respect and honour to his essence. The circle was now complete. The raven stopped speaking. The moment opened itself up again to the moment, as compared to the timeless.

The sound of the sea, the light breeze from the west and the dampness of the fog on my face, memory. The raven left the beach. So, did I.

The Book:

The book this week is you, your life and your dreams or dream. It is a new year, and it is time for change, and action. To achieve the dreams that until now have been simmering on the back burner. Now is the time to bring them to the front burner, and to turn the heat on high. Time to live breath and eat with big bites those dreams that you have. 2021 is the year to make those dreams a reality for yourself and those that are a part of those dreams.

Take the two minutes that you now have. Close your eyes and bring that dream that you have slowly back into focus. Roll it over in your mind until you can once again feel the familiarity for that dream that you once had. Bring it back into focus and into your consciousness. Bring it back to the point where you can taste the aliveness that the thought creates in your soul to be, live and act on this dream.

Take one step right now in the direction of that dream.

Being true to whom you are - Shapes

Quote:

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive. Because what the world needs is more people who have come alive”. Howard Thurman

The Action:

Good run. Flowed smoothly for the three of us. We were told that there was a bear on the trail by a couple, but we never saw it, though the dogs shifted its scent through their nostrils. Thoughts floated through my mind as my feet skimmed puddles and mud.

All my life I have seen shapes, just on the periphery of my vision. Animals, sometimes people. Also human animal combinations, with wings and animal human bodies. Never threatening, somehow reassuring to me in their mystery and magic - just for me.

They are never too close. Elusive. Shy. Just letting me know they are there. I have tried to explain this to a few people over the years. The response I usually get is “there is nothing there”, or “you are just imagining it”, or one of those looks that needs no explanation. So, I let it go. Stopped talking about it.

 Stopped talking about the dancing mysteries, the connections of dreams. The subtleties of what we cannot see, but can experience, and feel with our hearts. How a raven can tell you its thoughts. How the wind always knows the answers to what you seek, and a tree can shed tears, for the others that have fallen.

That a feather is not just a feather, but also a message. A gift perhaps or an awakening.  That stones have souls and wonder within, and love to be touched, and sometimes brought home.

I know that life is so much more than we know. Deep, flowing, and a myriad of interwoven layers and connections, beyond words. It is a sign to me, that if we are open, that anything is possible.

Love for another that is limitless. Passion for what one does. Being the best that one can be. Magic, and dreams that become real, because we believe so fervently in them, with our whole being. On it goes.

Lying on the floor, dogs draped on me, beside me, with me. I look into their eyes. I see trust, joy, love and belonging. They are sure of what they have, and what we have created with our pack, our union, and belonging to one another.

They don't judge me when I see the shapes; they smile, and look happy, accepting that together our life is perfect in whatever shape or form it is found.

Often when we look at one other, I feel such a confidence that the depths are infinite, waiting to be shared, explored and tasted. Touched, savoured, brought into a fullness and richness with time and shared moments.

The shapes once again are coming back to the periphery where imagination and reality kaleidoscope into a jumble of mystery and certainty. I am not alone at all.

The Book: The Rise of Superman. Decoding the Science of Ultimate Human Performance. Steven Kottler

I love these types of books that explore the limits of human potential. Once again it makes me come back to the concept that if we limit ourselves in our thoughts we create limits to our performance, and our lives. We need to get out of our own way and get on with believing in ourselves.

Anyhow, the book. A fascinating account of how adventure athletes are pushing the limits of human potential, by integrating and ultimately controlling their flow states. The book is divided into three sections Part One “ He is the Frenzy’. Part Two Flow Hacker Nation. Part Three Time to Rise.

Each section explores through the presentation of an adventure athlete the methods and what actually is the flow state, and how being able to tap into this zone allows individuals to push way beyond their perceived expectations of performance. An excellent and gripping read that I look forward to exploring in my own way for peak performance. 5/5