The Little Extra Boost Near the Top

Over 20 years ago while rafting the wild and scenic Rogue River in Southern Oregon, our guide suggested that if we followed a creek about a quarter of a mile from the river that we would find a wonderful "swimming hole" at the bottom of a pretty little waterfall.

Our party couldn't resist.  We walked the short quarter of a mile, and several jumped in to swim.  I became intrigued with the waterfall.  There was a rope hanging to the right of the fall.  A number of high-school and college-aged men were climbing the 12 to 15 feet up the rope.  When they got to the top, they would sit at the top of the waterfall for a minute or two, allowing the water to build pressure behind them.  At a critical moment, each would use his hands to lift his rear just enough that the water would send him cascading into the pool below.

"I want to do that!" I said.  I had not been known for either my courage or athletic prowess, and at the time, I was undecidedly in "middle age."  Upper body strength wasn't a strong suit for me either. My companions thought I was joking.  I was not.  I wanted to do that.  Amidst friendly joshing, I grabbed the rope and started the climb. 

Between the ridges in the rocks and the rope, I did pretty well for the first eight to ten feet, but by that point, my arms were shaking from weakness.  Slowly but surely, I continued my climb.  Finally, when I was 12 to 18 inches from the top, I had no strength left.  I could hardly hold the rope.  The problem was there wasn't an easy way down, and I didn't think I could make it up.  There I hung, shaking.  By this point, jeers had turned to cheers.  How could I stop now?  But there was nothing left.

Just when I could go no further, two young men with arms the size of small trees reached down, each grabbing one of my shaking arms, and swooped my diminutive figure up to the ledge.  It felt like a miracle to me.  Actually, it was a miracle now that I think of it.  That, it seems, was the easy part. 

I don't know what I'd been thinking.  I get shaky on a step ladder, and this ledge was easily two or three times the height of a ladder. What had I been thinking? What had looked like such fun at the bottom now looked terrifying.  But, there was no other way down, and besides that, I was now firmly the center of attention from the adults below and the young men behind me. 

The guys explained to me what I had to do, and one even demonstrated.  They provided lots of encouragement.  Courage was something I had to provide.  I sat for several minutes at the top of the fall, much longer than any of them had.  I could feel the water building up behind me.  One said, you just need to lift up a little bit, and the water takes care of the rest. "Yeah," I said knowingly.  That wasn't exactly the nudge I needed at the moment. I sat and sat.  Much cheering continued from above and below.

I am not sure where it came from, but I finally found the courage to lift ever the slightest bit, and, just as promised, over I went.  Faster than I knew what was happening, I was splashing in the pool below.  I do believe that was the most exhilarating moment of my life.

In an extended meditation over the weekend, I kept seeing myself being pulled up by those two hunky young men.  The metaphor was not wasted on me.  I've been exhausted, just as I'd keep feeling, even promising myself, I was near the top of the ledge.  I've been so exhausted that I've felt shaky and weak physically--not sure how I'd push on.  I've felt like I couldn't see my way up, but there was no good way down.  And, I've been hanging there for much of the year.

I uttered a prayer, "Dear God, please lift me up." 

The words I heard back, "Only you can help yourself.  You have it in you." 

"Geez, God.  Can't you do better than that?  I wanted to feel you swoop me out of this situation, like those two young men did on the ledge."

Almost as soon as I took my minute to wallow in self-pity, I understood what I must do.  The people I work with will not only allow, but will encourage and tacitly require the labor I've been putting in...until I refuse to do it any more.  So I have.  Instead of 11- and 12-hour days, I've work 9 and 9.5 the last two days.  I left at a few minutes after my "normal" quitting time to have a drink with some women friends.  Tomorrow, I will leave on time to make it to my tango class. 

Having an extra two to three hours in the evening has been almost as exhilarating as splashing into the pool at the bottom of the waterfall, but I think the real parallel to that experience is just around the corner. 

Last week I wrote about being "Left Hanging" (8/26.)  Two of the situations have resolved themselves.  My trip was postponed until a time when I couldn't take it, and I got into the class for which I'd been on the waiting list.  It ends up that the class is much more personal growth than I'd anticipated.  It has been a decade since I've walked into those waters.  As I've done pre-work activities, I've found myself really anticipating (8/8) the work. I expect that I am going to find myself almost as excited as I was when I splashed into that pool those years ago.  I believe that I needed to do the work to get myself to the top, though, before I could feel the delight when it is finished.

Anticipation...

I haven't seen "my babies" since January.  They aren't really my babies, but the two- and five-year-old girls currently on their way to my home won my heart at birth--theirs, not mine.  Between constraints on each end, it has been way too long since I've seen them.  We planned this visit months ago.  As the time has approach, my anticipation has increased.  Over the last week, I've gotten more and more excited.  If I calculate properly, they are probably 30 minutes away, and I am beside myself.

Years ago I heard that half the fun of a trip was planning.  I am not a planner, and I really love being spontaneous on trips.  Yet, I am fully aware that some of my best travel adventures are the result of enough research to figure out where the potential awaited.  As my life has become more and more harried, my planning and research for trips has gotten shorter and shorter. 

A doctor's appointment the day before my first trip to Italy resulted in a two-hour round trip Metro ride from the office and back, giving me my first two hours of "research."  On the way out that morning, I'd grabbed one of the tourist guides that I'd acquired months early but hadn't opened.  As I chugged from one end of the Metro almost to the other, I read about Ravenna, the birthplace of mosaics.  On a whim, my friend and I drove across the boot of Italy for an amazing two days in Ravenna.  We wouldn't have wanted to miss it, but for my doctor's appointment, we wouldn't have known what it offered.

On my way to Spain two years ago, I started my research on the plane east to Europe.  I was so busy getting things under control before my vacation that I just didn't think I had time...until I was on my way.  I was packing on my way out the door, too.

I know that this will be a wonderful weekend, but I also know how much fun the planning has been.  Looking forward to their faces...planning and preparing special foods that I think the family will like...picking a special Chianti Classico to share with their dad...thinking about what I think the family will enjoy on their visit to DC.   It's been wonderful.

The really amazing thing to me is how in my body I've been today.  I should have worked, but I didn't.  When their departure was delayed, I could have worked, but decided not to.  I wanted to fully anticipate the visit.  I made preparations, but mostly I anticipated the joy of their hugs, giggles and squeals, and passion.  My heart has gotten bigger and bigger. 

I just got a text that they are on the beltway.  I feel giddy: like a young girl in love.  Actually, I think that I am: I am in love with these girls, and I am totally enjoying the experience of anticipating them.  My heart felt bigger and fluttery.  There was a tickle in my throat and even some butterflies in my stomach as I anticipated.

This day has been rich because I've allowed myself to feel the joy of anticipation.  As I think back about trips when I took time and space for anticipation, there was much more excitement.  The last few vacations I've taken have felt very matter of fact and rushed because I have forgotten or lost the power of anticipation.

This fall I am going to Greece.  There have been two guide books on my desk for almost two months.  Until this moment, when I opened one to see the date on the receipt, I hadn't opened either. Today, it dawned on me how much I've been missing by not consciously making  time to prepare for my trips.   I will do so, I promise.

In the meantime, I've received a call from the girls' mother that they are here. Now is time to switch from anticipation to full-on enjoyment.