I came across this while re-reading a book this morning. I have enjoyed this parable as means to imagine change in a tangible way. A link to the author's original work is found in the byline and at the end of the post.
Turning the Fear of
Transformation into the
Transformation of Fear
Transformation of Fear
Sometimes I feel that my life is a series of trapeze swings. I'm
either hanging on to a trapeze bar swinging along or, for a few moments in my
life, I'm hurtling across space in between trapeze bars.
Most of the time, I spend my life hanging on for dear life to my
trapeze-bar-of-the-moment. It carries me along at a certain steady rate of
swing and I have the feeling that I'm in control of my life.
I know most of the right questions and even some of the answers.
But every once in a while as I'm merrily (or even not-so-merrily)
swinging along, I look out ahead of me into the distance and what do I see? I
see another trapeze bar swinging toward me. It's empty and I know, in that
place in me that knows, that this new trapeze bar has my name on it. It is my
next step, my growth, my aliveness coming to get me. In my heart of hearts I
know that, for me to grow, I must release my grip on this present, well-known
bar and move to the new one.
Each time it happens to me I hope (no, I pray) that I won't have
to let go of my old bar completely before I grab the new one. But in my knowing
place, I know that I must totally release my grasp on my old bar and, for some
moment in time, I must hurtle across space before I can grab onto the new bar.
Each time, I am filled with terror. It doesn't matter that in all
my previous hurtles across the void of unknowing I have always made it. I am
each time afraid that I will miss, that I will be crushed on unseen rocks in
the bottomless chasm between bars. I do it anyway. Perhaps this is the essence
of what the mystics call the faith experience. No guarantees, no net, no
insurance policy, but you do it anyway because somehow to keep hanging on to
that old bar is no longer on the list of alternatives. So, for an eternity that
can last a microsecond or a thousand lifetimes, I soar across the dark void of
"the past is gone, the future is not yet here."
It's called "transition." I have come to believe that
this transition is the only place that real change occurs. I mean real change,
not the pseudo-change that only lasts until the next time my old buttons get
punched.
I have noticed that, in our culture, this transition zone is
looked upon as a "no-thing," a noplace between places. Sure, the old
trapeze bar was real, and that new one coming towards me, I hope that's real,
too. But the void in between? Is that just a scary, confusing, disorienting
nowhere that must be gotten through as fast and as unconsciously as possible?
NO! What a wasted opportunity that would be. I have a sneaking
suspicion that the transition zone is the only real thing and the bars are
illusions we dream up to avoid the void where the real change, the real growth,
occurs for us. Whether or not my hunch is true, it remains that the transition
zones in our lives are incredibly rich places. They should be honored, even
savored. Yes, with all the pain and fear and feelings of being out of control
that can (but not necessarily) accompany transitions, they are still the most
alive, most growth-filled, passionate, expansive moments in our lives.
We cannot discover new
oceans unless we have the courage to lose sight of the shore.
Anonymous
So,
transformation of fear may have nothing to do with making fear go away, but
rather with giving ourselves permission to "hang out" in the
transition between trapezes. Transforming our need to grab that new bar, any
bar, is allowing ourselves to dwell in the only place where change really
happens. It can be terrifying. It can also be enlightening in the true sense of
the word. Hurtling through the void, we just may learn how to fly.
