I was at the end of a rope
At the bottom of some cliffs
At Primrose Bay.

“It’s an easy climb,” they said,
And I said, “Fine. I can do it. I’ve climbed before.”
The guy above me called down to go ahead
And I began.
Moving upwards,
A handhold here,
A foothold there,
With the guy above me taking in the rope.

Then suddenly I slipped
and fell.
Three inches,
maybe six.
I swung there on the end of the rope,
Sick to my stomach,
Death tugging at my toes.
Then I was clinging to the rockface,
Petrified,
Unable to move
(except for a small portion of my brain which noted in a detached sort of way that it now realized why the word ‘petrified’ was used to describe an extremity of fear).

Despite encouragement from above
I could not go on.
Eventually I was persuaded to release my limpet-like grip on the rocks,
And was ignominiously lowered
the five foot or so
to the ground,
Where I shook uncontrollably
For the next fifteen minutes.

I do not want, necessarily, never to be afraid.
But I do want to transform my relationship to fear.
I fear to fall.
I fear to fail.
And I fear to die.
These fears bind my life into a safe and narrow channel
And when they converge
I freeze.
A fossil on the shores of life.

I want to embrace my fear
I want to embrace fear and falls and failure and death
And dare to risk a little more.

I want to reach more deeply into life.
To do more climbing
and risk more falling.
I want to draw more lines.
Define myself.
Be seen.  Act.
Choose.  Change.
I want to learn to say “I was wrong”
And to know when to say “I’m right.”

I want to be brilliant
and brash
and foolish
and wise
To be a conquering hero
And a maiden in distress.

I want to strike out on my own
Explore new ground with nobody’s permission but my own,
Without demanding that the universe support me on my own terms,
and then complaining and withdrawing when it doesn’t.
And I want to recognise and accept the help
that is constantly around me.
To ask for it, even.
“Would you help me, please?”

I want to share my appreciations more
To open up and say “I see you”
And “I love you”
Especially when it seems unsafe to do so.

And I’d like to show my disapprovals more,
My angers and my upsets and my judgements.
I’d like to ride more waves
and chart new courses.
I’d like to make more waves.
Not just for the sake of making waves
But because I’m tired of trying to keep the waters calm.
What for?
Other people can ride waves too
and if they can’t
it’s time they learned.
Maybe we could all discover new potentials
and create new games together.

And I want to risk being tender,
soft and open
and vulnerable.
To let myself be loved and loving
And to know that I am completely
and utterly
and unconditionally
OK.
And that everything
is right on course.

And finally,
I want to take it step by step, if I need to,
Not expect myself to do it all at once.

Back there at Primrose Bay,
Once I stopped shaking,
I began to climb the cliff again.
Someone ahead of me,
Someone below me,
Helping me find where to put my hands and feet,
Encouraging me to make friends with the rockface.

I made it to the top
And abseiled down.
And climbed it again on my own,
Careful and slow
At the end of a rope
One step at a time
At my own pace.

By the end of the afternoon,
I’d got it.

I want to climb more cliffs.