#92 Dancing the Tightrope: Chapter 19 & 20: Back on THE Horse and Conclusion

This episode of the podcast is the last two chapters of Dancing the Tightrope. We have reached the end of the book!

You might hear me be a little choked up at the end of this reading. There are so many layers to unpack as to why. First, when I started reading this book, I didn’t expect to get much further than Chapter 1. Just reading twenty whole chapters felt like a huge accomplishment. For those of you who encouraged me to read another (and then another), I appreciate you more than you can know. Second, when reading these chapters, I was reliving my experience in some ways. Reaching some of these milestones felt unachievable when I began this journey. Now, they are everyday occurrences. Take away for you? Whatever seems daunting at the moment is just waiting to become an everyday occurrence if you are willing to break it into small enough steps. 

The conversation I’ve been having recently with several colleagues, clients and friends is about visiting the other side of fear. If you haven’t been there (and for years, I HAD NOT BEEN THERE), it’s impossible to understand how fear can squash us. It seems so rational to honor fear as the answer to the problem of the day. Until you look at it from the other side (get thee behind me, fear!), you cannot see it for what it is: information. Dancing the Tightrope calibrates the fear so that we can RESPOND rather than automatically react from what I call the “robot space” in this book. Just like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, we discover that the “great and powerful Oz” is simply our programming and conditioning, pulling levers like the little man behind the curtain. We’ve had the answers all along; all we needed was someone to show us the inner Tools we were granted at birth. That’s what I set out to show in publishing this book.

Reaching this point in the journey of reading the book, you may be wondering “what’s next?” I’m publishing Dancing the Tightrope as an Audible book in the next few months – timeline to be determined. The compiled version will include several things this podcast version did not. It will have the Introduction Chapter, which I did not include in this series. It will also include some “author commentary”, as I’ve come a long way since these words were written. It seems only fair to update the listener. I may also play with adding more quotes in the voice of the speaker where possible. 

Dancing the Tightrope will not be the only audiobook I publish. After this one gets out, I will publish both The Delicate Art and The Elegant Pivot in Audible format as well. Yes, the woman who swore I would NEVER do an Audible version is reminded that saying “never” is just the first step! You’ll hear more about that in the podcast coming out next week, with Bernie Harberts, author of Two Mules to Triumph and star of Amazon’s The Lost Sea Expedition. 

Transcript

Intro: 0:02

Lynn, Welcome to Creative spirits unleashed, where we talk about the dilemmas of balancing work and life. And now here's your host. Lynn Carnes,

Lynn: 0:19

welcome to the creative spirits unleash Podcast. I'm Lynn Carnes, your host, and again, your reader for the book dancing the tightrope. This episode of the podcast is the last two chapters of dancing the tightrope. We've reached the end of the book. You might hear me be a little choked up at the end of this reading. There are so many layers to unpack as to why. First, when I started reading this book, I didn't expect to get much past chapter one, just reading 20 whole chapters felt like a huge accomplishment. As I finished. For those of you who encouraged me to read another and then another, I appreciate you more than you can know. Second when reading these chapters, I was reliving my experience in some ways, reaching some of these milestones felt unachievable when I began this journey, after I fell off the horse. Now, those very things are everyday occurrences. What's the takeaway for you? Well, whatever seems daunting at the moment is just waiting to become an everyday occurrence. If you are willing to break the daunting thing into the small steps, the conversation I've been having recently with several colleagues, clients and friends is about the idea of visiting the other side of fear, which I speak about in Chapter 20, the last chapter of this book. If you haven't been there, and for years, I had not been there, it's impossible to understand how fear is squashing us, how it can squash us. It seems so rational to honor fear as the answer to the problem of the day, until you look at it from the other side, sort of like Get thee behind me fear you can't see it for what it is, which is just information. Dancing the tightrope calibrates the fear so that we can respond rather than automatically react from what I call the robot space in this book, just like Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz, we discover that the Great and Powerful Oz is simply our programming and our conditioning pulling levers on us like the little man behind the curtain. We have had the answers all along. All we needed was someone to show us the inner tools that we were granted at birth. That's what I'm hoping this book points to for you now, reaching this point in the journey of reading the book, you may be wondering what's next. I'm publishing dancing the tightrope as an audible book in the next few months. Timeline to be determined, and the compiled version will include several things this podcast version did not. It will, for example, have the introduction chapter, which I did not include in this series. It will also include some author commentary, as I've come a long way since these words were written. So I plan on weighing in on a few things that are more updated as we go. It seems only fair to do so, because things have changed. I may also play with adding more quotes in the voice of the speaker where it's possible. As for example, several of my podcast guests are quoted in this book. So dancing the tie rope will not be the only audio book I published, by the way, after this one gets out, I will publish both the delicate art and the elegant pivot in audible format as well. Yes, the woman who swore I would never do an audible version is reminded that saying never is just the first step. You'll hear more about that idea in the podcast coming out next week with Bernie harberts, author of two mules to triumph, and star of Amazon's The Lost Sea expedition. As always, I love hearing from you love hearing, getting your ratings, your comments on the podcast apps. Share it with your friends, family, anyone you think might be interested. I so appreciate you, my listeners for this podcast, and now please enjoy this episode, the last one in the series for dancing the tightrope, chapter 19, back on the horse, going home in a car three years after the accident, I returned to the barn at Babs place for the first time. As I drove over the hill, I spotted the place where the ambulance met us that day, a little over three years before, I waited for a wave of emotion, for some sort of visceral fear to arise. All I felt was a sort of settled excitement. As I walked to the barn, I reflected on the difference between this time and the day of the incident. On the day of the accident, I had one focus, get on the horse. I was there to go on a trail ride for sporadic vacation rides. It had. Been 40 years since I had the opportunity to have the magical experience I remembered as a child in that state of mind, one thing mattered, my goal of getting on the horse. Everything leading up to the moment of mounting was just an impediment. I rushed through the grooming. I never connected with the horse. I focused on mechanics of the saddle and bridle, just wanting to show I could do it by myself. Once he was settled, I did not take the time to walk with him on the ground. It was all a blur of tedious action awaiting the big moment. Once I was I pulled out my phone and took a picture looking back on it, my modern, disconnected mind was almost laughable. What I didn't know, couldn't know was that every mindless action sowed the seeds of for the disaster awaiting me. On this day, I was soaking in everything. Babs greeted us with a huge smile. She was so thrilled that I was back. The minute I walked into the barn, I noticed the expression on each horse's face. Daryl had been working with me and Scotty through this whole time a couple of weeks before, she had seen me gain more and more clarity, and said, You are ready on this day, she joined us for moral support. We decided for this ride, I would ride Cody and we would follow the horse mocha. He preferred to lead, and I was not quite ready to be on the horse in front. Daryl would ride mocha. When it was time to brush the horses, I took the time to recognize which spots Cody enjoyed being scratched and which ones to avoid. I asked for help with saddling and bridling, wanting to be sure the saddle was in the proper place. Once he was saddled, we walked around on the ground to give him a chance to breathe and for us to connect. Breaking things down step by step, frame by frame, listening to and balancing my negative positive pole. I felt no urgency. In fact, taking things frame by frame had become pure joy, listening, hearing, observing, waiting, breathing, dancing through the give and take as we took our time. Once mounted and on the trail, I hit of adrenaline I had felt so many times before in the early trail rides following the accident, every hill or unexpected move by the horse sent so much adrenaline through me, it was almost intolerable. After three years of soaking in my lessons, all I felt was a quiet excitement to finally be there, unaware but ready for what might come on the trail during the past three years, come to realize that every trail ride brings the potential for an opportunity to raise my pressure threshold. My many rides at Cedar Creek had shown me that even horses that take people of all levels of experience can have moments. Horses are not motorbikes. They have a keenly tuned survival brain. The horse in front keeps an eye out for danger, and their scan can go as far as a mile. The horse in the rear tunes into danger coming from behind. The horses in the middle are counting on those in front and rear to alert them to double on the trail. Putting me in the middle was a deliberate strategy to make things as controlled and safe as possible. For my first time, back to the scene. Ironically, as I was walking Cody around after putting the saddle on, I realized I had ridden many, many more times since I had started back riding two years ago than I had in my entire 62 years of life in preparing to get back on the horse, I had ridden more than 25 horses in different settings. What started as a mission to overcome trauma had offered me a new way of being with fear and danger, we planned the ride to avoid any steep downhill traverses. In our debriefing after the accident, we recognized that a good part of my fear was triggered by the steep hill and mocha big rocking gate when my pole went up and I had no skills or tools to address the feeling I gave myself over to it with every grippy, fearful action I had communicated to the horse, we go fast now, while I was confident, I can now walk a horse down a hill without adrenaline coursing uncontrollably through my body. We were determined to set the conditions for a calm and easy ride on this day. But you never know what you're going to find on 2100 acres of mostly preserved wilderness. We had been riding for a while talking casually, when suddenly a deer exploded out of the woods in front of mocha. The deer was gone as quickly as she arrived. Now the question was, how would she affect the horses? In this case, nothing happened with the horses, and we moved on with relief. This first opportunity only confirmed that my pressure threshold was higher. Rather than automatically be in fear, I tuned in to how the horses were feeling. The deer sparked a conversation on each horse's unique reaction to being startled. Cody, the horse I was on, does a sudden jump to the side. Died. Good to know. Just after we crossed the leaf covered bridge, Darryl and mocha stopped. We have a situation. Snake on the trail. Darryl said we all stopped and waited for a few moments, hoping the snake would move on. Perhaps he was hoping to stay invisible or avoid being trampled by the 12 giant hoofs looming near him. Either way, he wasn't going anywhere. As we started to move past him, the snake decided it was time to skedaddle. We heard leaves rustling as he tried to slither up the hill, falling and regaining and falling as we walked past. Suddenly, Cody caught sight of him, and in a microsecond, all four of his feet levitated to the left as the snake went by to our right. Fortunately, I stayed balanced. I quickly reassured Cody that all was well, and we walked on. Second opportunity to confirm my pressure threshold. We arrived back at the barn all in one piece. I was able to drive away in my own car, not the ants, just as had been the case in many rides over the past two years. I survived. There really was no question about my survival. I had built a much stronger foundation in both my skills and, more importantly, in raising my pressure threshold. The only thing left was to get back on the horse Mocha, but first I had the opportunity to discover just how far I had come, and a chance to move through pressures I had never been able to withstand, the heights of fear. It was almost inconceivable that I had been on this quest for three years. What would it mean for me to finally achieve the goal of getting back on mocha? Well, just a mere few months before the goal seemed way out of reach. After the ride with Cody, I realized that riding mocha was within reach. Ironically, I stood thinking it could let down because I had treated it like the Holy Grail. It was quite strange to consider that riding mocha could be any sort of letdown. After all, it had not been that long ago that Bruce had asked, Are you ever planning to get back on the horse? My answer at that moment was a yes, but with the same level of confidence as if he had asked, Do you think you will ever book a trip to outer space? It sounded great in theory, but only because it was so far out of the realm of possibility at the time. Now the day was near, I had questions. What would it mean to check off this box? Would I quit riding lessons? Would I somehow declare myself complete? Would I treat it as a test, rather than allowing this experience to help me burn off the old ways when I go back to my previous life without horses? What ways had this quest truly changed me? The answer to the last question came in a surprise, nothing to do with horses and everything to do with perhaps my greatest fear of all heights. If our most core human need of all is to be safe, it is second only to a mother's need for her child to be safe. When my mom was pregnant with me, she had a dream that would color the rest of my existence. She and my dad were vacationing at the Grand Canyon. I was a toddler. In her dream, I ran towards the edge and disappeared. She woke in terror as little Lynn, who was not even born yet fell off the cliff. Even though she quickly realized it was a dream, she treated it as a premonition. For the rest of my life, five words were echoed, no screamed in my ear, don't go near the edge. She meant it literally and figuratively. Don't go in near anything where I could fall off. Don't go near anything where I could be hurt. Don't go near anything at the edge of a belief, rule or principle in her world, I needed to stay far away from any kind of risk that could lead to death, falling or being judged. My mom just wanted me to be safe. What happened mostly was that I developed a debilitates. My history of dealing with high places was littered with experiences where I lost my exposure. Yet here I was married to man, Russ who loves high adrenaline, adventures involved going near frightening edges, the better part of me probably chose him to help me work through my fear so that I could enjoy life. For most of our marriage, my fearful, fretful inner child gave him no chance to help me. Instead, I embarrassed him with a full scream when he took me rock climbing, I slapped his hand away when he tried to comfort me on the stairs of the Statue of Liberty, I quivered and shook in every steep place we ever visited, including the deck on my own mountainside home. On more than one hike along a cliffside route, I balked and then melted in a puddle of tears my fear of height while scuba diving, I went under took one look. At the edge of the Cayman wall, dropping into oblivion in the ocean, mind you, and levitated out of the water. To say I had a fear of heights is an understatement. Eventually, he gave up doing most extreme activities. In the meantime, I somehow managed to learn to ride a snow ski lift without holding a death grip from bottom to top. We settled into occasional safe, middle of the road vacation like our parents took. None of this was on my mind when I booked a trip for four to go to the zip line down the road at one local attractions known as the gorge. Ironically, we were going with our friends David and Darryl, the same woman who had introduced me to Bruce and was teaching me to ride Scotty might get to see my fear of heights in all its Texas size glory. Little did I know at the time that this was the fastest, steepest zip line in North America. I learned that fun fact while we were strapping into harnesses. It wasn't until that moment I remembered, oh, I was afraid of heights. What the hell was I doing here, and why had I booked it? Our friends had mentioned it would be fun, and being the camp director style organizer, I just made the reservation. Now, sitting on the edge of the deck at the gorge, getting strapped into my harness, I checked in for the usual syrup of fearful sensations that would start coursing through my body at these moments interesting. I felt something, but this was different than the usual pre meltdown sensation. My negative poll was being registering if I had to give it a number, it was a three instead of jell o legs feeling locked down in fear. I was excited as they took us through the pre flight routine, I checked in with myself again. I found myself curious if the sensations would be like water skiing. Was it as fast? But would my curiosity last? What would I do when it was time to step off the edge? Should I wait until the end, just in case I needed to bail out and let everyone else go have their fun? That choice was taken from me rather quickly. They hooked us to the line in the sequence we would go, and it would be complicated to reset, so I went with the flow. When it came my turn, I walked to the edge of the platform, and then the guide had me step up on a tree stump that doubled as a mounting block. That was another clue that this time was different. I was able to step up with firm, non wobbly legs as he took me to the zip line. Then he gave me the all clear to step off. And I did off. I went flying at right, next speed, holding on tiny little handle. It was exhilarating. The zip ended with a hard stop, the kind of joke that sort of felt like a car accident, such a hit formerly would have sent me spiraling into freak out land. Indeed, there was a moment of surprise, but then again, this time was different. The guide pulled me in, and once again, I easily stepped up onto the bench as he unhooked me and asked me to step onto the small platform surrounding the tree. We continued in this manner for several more zips. At every stop, we were standing on a platform built around a tree very high off the ground. I was fine until we reached the tree with no zip line out. Wait, what now that I had mastered flying on the zip line, I eagerly looked for the next ride. Instead, this time we would exit the tree. I first walk across a swinging bridge and then going down a rappel line. I've never been a fan of swinging bridges hanging high up in the trees. There were only two choices at this point, walk the bridge or have the guide lower me down on a rope. I had no interest in going straight down the bridge was not fun, but at least my feet had something to step on during this traverse, I was just happy to keep one foot moving in front of the other. Once we reached the next tree, we were back to the same choices, only this time, there really wasn't a choice. I could repel of my own accord, or let the trip guide lower me using his special rope, same way out, one the drop of shame and the other, the glide of victory, as the guide demonstrated the method we would use, it was a veritable House of Horrors to the old me who feared heights. The guide asked if anyone had ever repelled before. Yes. I said, I've been down a few feet in a rock climbing gym. What I didn't say was doing so was a single frame in a 20 year journey that only it in a repel because I was too tired to climb my way back down. Then she said, Well, this is nothing like that. This is more like a free fall, but controlled great. The guide showed us how to walk to the edge, where she said we needed to hang all 10 toes off the platform. Then she said, trust the sit and disappeared into oblivion, toes hanging off the platform. In other words, the opposite. Of don't go near the edge for the first time that day, echoes of my fearful past started rattling around in my brain. Lynn, on screen, one knocked on the door of my psyche, promising a better answer to trust the sit here's where it got interesting. Yes, I could feel the sensations of a potential freak out start to stir. Lynn on screen, one pummeled me with thoughts like, is this woman crazy? Do you ever think I'm going to step off this ledge? My negative pole was now a solid five, registering the highest number of the day. However, when I checked in with myself, I realized that the fear while present would not drive me while definitely in the froth wasn't over my pressure threshold, I had the power to shift to my tools, my old rules would not run me. Lynn on screen two had managed the sculling boat in the wind. Lynn on screen two had dealt with dozens of horse incidents scarier than the original trauma. Lynn on screen two had learned to be the conduit, take things frame by frame, shed mistakes and shift into the what's next cycle. It was time for Lynn, on screen two to step up, or, to be precise, step off. My turn came. I was a bit incredulous as I stepped to the edge, because this time actually felt markedly different than any other time in my life. My body was not filled with the sensations from an overwhelming adrenaline hit my mind had set aside the screaming thoughts driven by fear. My legs function like real legs, rather than feeling like liquefying jello. So I stepped up to the edge. The guy took the slack out of the rope, and it's like that I stepped off the platform all day long. Russ marveled that I was managing the zip lines when I dropped off the rappel, which turned out to be the first of three similar dismounts from the trees. He was thrilled beyond words, my recovery from falling off the horse had given me so much more than horseback riding skills I had not just changed around the edges. I was fundamentally different in getting back on the horse. I had unleashed my tools mocha a week after I rode Cody Darrell and I returned to the barn. He'd been working on the ground with Scotty as I continued to learn to develop trust and connection with horses. Working with Scotty had helped me see the subtle signals and shifts that horses are always sending. In the intervening three years, I had often wondered about the signals I had missed from Mocha that day when I saddled him, it never dawned on me to check in with him if he was standing still. I assumed he was fine, and I went about my business, my reflections also took me to the people in my life. I wondered how many hundreds of people I had worked with where I might have missed the subtle signals they were sending. How often had I just gone about my business not noticing whether the person I was with was sending signals that they were uncomfortable. The incident with Jen in the barn with Phoenix had brought this lesson home to me. Jen is both incredibly sensitive in a tuned in kind of way, and is also a master of not showing how she feels. Often, the most sensitive horses are the ones that are the best at hiding how they feel, which was mocha on this day, I knew everything would be different from the time we start. I took my time brushing him and checking his feet, rather than rushing through to get the saddle on so I could get on my mind. Stayed with each task. Mocha happily stood there from start to finish without so much as a halter, step by step, frame by frame, I went through each task after I had him saddled and bridled, I asked Babs to make sure everything was in the right place. While I would not have been surprised to feel anxious as I stepped on the mountain block, I had raised my pressure threshold by this point so that even a return to the scene did not trigger a trauma response. Once we started out, I felt confident to be in the lead. Unlike the first time I wrote him, I could feel his responsiveness to my every request until we got to the first intersection where we could go either back to the barn or keep going out. At that point, mocha just stopped. No amount of urging on my part would move him. Daryl rode calmly, passed on Cody and mocha then decided he could go along with the plan. The rough ride was as uneventful a trail ride can be. Perhaps the most drama we had was taking a steep downhill. Babs had watched during the ride, and could see that mocha and I were doing well together. She knew it would be a confidence builder for both me and for mocha. And we neared the top of the hill, Babs reminded me to do large S turns with him on the way down and trust him to find his footing. This hill was actually much longer and steeper than the one where I had the accident. When we reached the bottom, I was both thrilled and aware that I had crossed another threshold. Many months later, we took a turn down another steep hill as we reached the bottom, Bab said it. We call this trail collarbone alley. My first thought was they had, let's break a collarbone here. Before I could voice it, she said, there you had your accident. All I could was, really it was here. Nothing had come up for me. It looked like I remembered at all. In fact, my first instinct was to question we had the right place. Then I realized that Babs had designed the trail system. She directed her husband to find us that day. She had passed the site many times in the intervening three years. Yeah, she might know better than me where I accident occurred while I had been saying for some time I could tell my sessions with Bruce were rewiring my brain, revisiting the place sealed the deal. The accident was behind me. Time after time I had chosen a tools response while under pressure, every voice led set of neural pathways in my brain, the old pathways became like an untended trail in the woods overgrown with vegetation while the new pathways were opening like a super highway. After many months of riding Bucha regularly, I came to realize that he is the ultimate trailers. He stands quietly to be groomed and tapped without being tied up. He likes to be in the lead for good reason. Deer crashing through the woods don't phase him. Snakes barely register a glance. We have faced it all together and more. Looking back on the accident, I can see clearly now that mocha did nothing wrong. He was simply trying to figure out what I wanted. What I wanted was not clear to me or him. On that day, I was way over my pressure threshold. I didn't even know I had a pressure throw. I believed that skills were all that mattered and were lacking. Returning to ride him was uneventful, because I had significantly raised my pressure threshold and I had gained skills. With my new eyes, I now recognize that riding Scotty was the next opportunity to raise my pressure threshold. An even bigger moment. Darrell and I made Friday mornings a regular thing before we went back to face the pressures on the trail with Scotty, she wanted me to be extremely comfortable moving him through a lot of transitions from walk to slow, walk forward walk to working pace. This made a lot of sense, based on my handful of experiences with him today. My greatest fear was of him running away with me learning transitions would give me the confidence that going fast was not a one way street. The most important transition was into his gate and then back to walk. Scotty doesn't trot, he gates. It's a fast shuffle like movement that is the silk. I was super excited to learn how to do it with him. First, Darryl demonstrated it in the unit, from what I could tell, she did nothing and simply said, gate. Scotty then moved for forward walk into his beautiful gate. It looks so easy until I tried it, I had written Scott enough realize how fun to the slightest fade and is always happy to go faster. As I walked around the arena, Daryl guided me to maintain a loose rain as I asked him to go faster and slower, and finally, she said, Just say the word gate, change, nothing else. Well, I said the word gate, and Scotty cantered off, much like he did the very first time I ever wrote him three months before my accident. Cantering was definitely not the picture we had for this moment, even though my inner little girl wanted to run like the wind, my more sensible adult self knew better. Always lurking in the background was the fear that he would run and I would not be able to stop him, so I would bring him around and try again. It was in these moments that both Darryl and I were aware that this time things were different. Rather than finding my body flooded with adrenaline, I was able to calmly bring him around to a stop. Then we would try again. In the past, it was often my terrified fear response that said Scotty running with three years of working with Bruce under my belt, I had raised my pressure threshold to the point that I could stay relaxed and present when Scotty cantered off. However, we still not solved the problem. In these moments, I could feel myself at a choice point between screen one, the mistake cycle, and screen two, what's next cycle? It was so tempting to beat myself up for not being able to get it in the far recesses of my mind, I could hear the little voice and to say, What is wrong with me? Why can't I do this? Now I was seeing that temptation for what it was, a new coding, self protective armor to take me away from the discomfort of the froth I knew the what's next cycle was the better choice. Choosing the path of screen two allowed me to remember my negative pole for the tuning fork that it was since Daryl introduced me to Bruce, we had shared language around balancing my poles as an extremely experienced horse trainer, she also recognized. Go effectively ride this highly trained horse. She studied the arena video, which captured what was really happening. She could see something in my form that I couldn't feel when I asked for the gate, I suddenly shifted my weight forward in preparation for the unknown, while Daryl knew from many years of experience that it would not feel that much faster. My subconscious mind wasn't convinced whether I meant to or not. Scotty heard my movement as a request to canter. That's how he was trained. The problem was me, it was going to take many, many repetitions me doing the wrong thing to get it right. In the meantime, Scotty would be cantering off my subtle moves, thinking he was doing right thing. Rather than confuse the horse, Daryl decided to take another path. Over the next several weeks, she taught me to ride with contact, which involves riding with a much shorter range, sort of like holding hands with the horse. The key to contact is presence and feel unbeknownst to me at the time, it's one of the most difficult riding skills to learn. Do it either too hard or too soft, and the horse can develop a hard mouth or become very confused about what the rider is asking. Once again, I was dancing the tightrope between too much and too little. The only way to find my balance was to feel my way through it, slowly but surely. Week by week, frame by frame, we built my skills. The path we were on Now fit the category of go slow to go fat. We broke things down even more to the frames within the frames. Every now and then I could feel my impatience rise, trying to send me into the mistake cycle. This time, those far away voices tried to say things like, this is remedial training you should be advancing more quickly. Inevitably, the question at the root of mistake cycle is, what is wrong with me? When my mind ventured into mistake territory, I gently brought it back. I remembered that the comfort found in armor might shield me from the angst, but it also kept me small and fearful. Darryl reminded me this was advanced training, not remedial. Also behind those questions was the awareness that horses can spook and run off and jump in good directions. By now, I was riding many different horses on many different trails, including Bucha. I had been through many, many situations far scarier than the one that caused my accident, where I once enjoyed situations that had proven themselves dangerous, now I was recognizing that I could instead choose to build my mental tools. Not only was I building skills, but I also raised my pressure threshold every time I chose the what's not next cycle on screen too. After a few sessions, Darryl decided Scotty and I were ready to try the gate again. She guided us through several upward and downward transitions, through different speeds. Then she said the magic words, forward, walk, but this time, go to the edge. As we walk, she encouraged me with the words, go to the edge. Go to the edge. Go to the edge. The irony was not lost on me. For all those early years, my mom had yelled, don't go near the edge much of my adult life, and spent unwinding that old programming without much success. Yet now with a new understanding of how to raise my pressure threshold, build my mental tools and take things frame by frame. I welcomed the words I went to the edge Scotty gated. Then he slowed down when I asked, did it again? Then he slowed down, then we went calm around. Things could not have been more different when I changed. Scotty changed one of my favorites of all time is the real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes. By Marcel Proust, in the past three years, I had changed when I saw the world with new eyes. Everything changed. Chapter 20. Conclusion, the other side of fear. Fear may be one of the most essential yet potentially damaging human emotions. Without enough of it, we will die. With too much of it, we fail to live as with anything that matters. It's not the thing itself. It's finding the right balance with the thing that matters. Water is essential to life, yet water can kill. Salt is essential to life, yet too much salt can kill fire, can consume and destroy. Fire also offers life saving heat. There are countless theories of how we humans should treat fear, the ideas ranging from completely getting rid of fear to putting fear in the driver's seat. Fear loves to be in the driver's seat, left to its own devices. Fear sends the message, I'm here to help. Let me tell you what to do, when to do, and how to do. Fear also loves to be hidden in the shadows. Behind the scenes, fear says, tell no one about me. You've completely gotten rid of me. You are amazing now. Do only that, which you know you can do. Take no chances lest you die. Since most of us don't want to listen to fear in either extreme, it's common to put that voice on other people. When I was in the process of choosing to leave my banking career and enter the startup world of entrepreneurship, fear said to me, what about the risk? What about all the money you were leaving on the table? Are you sure you want to blow up a 20 year career? What about health insurance? What about your retirement plan? The voice of fear didn't come to me in the form of a scary voice on high or a sneaky voice in the shadows? Nope, the voice of fear sounded like my dad. In fact, it sounded so much like my dad that I spent six months agonizing over how to tell him what I was considering. That voice caused me to overreact, taking extreme measures to leave myself a back door into the organization I was leaving just in case I failed. That voice almost caused me to miss the opportunity. On the day, I finally had to tell my dad because I had submitted my resignation, I picked up the phone and found my hands shaking. I expected to hear him say the exact words that had been rolling around in my head. Living with him for 18 years assured me that I was the expert on His every thought and feeling. As a result, I had prepared myself with every explanation, my armor, strong defenses up, I finally spat out my decision. Then I got the shock of my life. Dad didn't say anything out loud that even remotely sounded like what he had been spouting in my head. In fact, it was the opposite. He said something along the lines of that sounds amazing. I'm so proud of you and excited to see where this goes. He went on to ask questions about what I would be doing, how I found the opportunity, and what I was most looking forward to doing. Wow. Part of me thought, Who are you and what have you done with my dad? After we hung up, I took a moment to reflect on what had happened and what I had missed, and I remembered some key things about my dad. His profession was finding oil. He was the classic wildcatter, gambling on finding energy hidden deep in the earth, his gambling spirit ran a mile wide. Had I used my tools to listen and hear who he really was and what he really thought? My fear would not have appeared as a dad apparition. Instead, what I heard in my head was not my dad, but my construct of him created by my fear. When I was able to own my fear as mine and mine alone, not something put on me by someone else, I was able to address it in a balanced way. Yes, I did need to consider all the factors in taking the leap from steady corporate treadmill to a roller coaster driven by me, operating in this mindset. Fear was behind me, informing me, alerting me to danger, not running me like a robot. This incident gave me a glimpse of the other side of fear, where it had a role, but it didn't have to run me. Parents, schools and society impose all kinds of rules on children to keep them safe. On the attachment side of the balancing act, we are seeking belonging, relationships and more importantly, certainty. Humans don't survive in isolation. We need each other, and we need the rules that bring us together, as long as we don't overuse them. On the self expression side of the balancing act, we long to shine our own light. We sense the spark that is unique to us. We owe it to ourselves and others to bring to the world that which only we can bring. Just as artists use their tools in ways only they can, the tools we bring our perceptions, curiosity, discipline, problem solving fuel our ability and our very presence. The heat of pressure shapes us much like it forms diamonds. Yes, it's dangerous. We risk rejection, and it's not comfortable. If we reject the process, we get stuck in the endless loop of beating ourselves into oblivion. When we embrace it, we unleash our tools and become truer to ourselves with each tiny moment in this pressure journey over the last three years, I had more and more glimpses on the other side of that wall, working with the survival brain of horses gave me a whole new repertoire to work with my own survival brain. Pressure is not going away. How I respond to pressure can either crush me or elevate me. The modern era has created a strange dichotomy in our minds. On the one hand, it's taken us away from our nature and away from nature. We no longer spend most of our time in nature, managing our food and shelter needs. On the other hand, our natural survival brain still runs us while. Whether we truly need it or not, the amygdala still sends adrenaline for everything we needed it for in the old days. Thus we end up caught in the homeless sequence and filled with anxiety over things that won't actually kill us, or we end up being wildly successful at a lucrative job we hate and we feel trapped because the modern world tells us money and status matter more than anything else. I'm not saying there is no place for rules. When I was learning to fly private airplanes in my late 20s and later in my 60s, it was essential that I followed checklists, the proper flight plan, pattern, emergency procedures and many, many more rules. They were necessary for my safety and for the safety of my fellow pilots and the unwitting people on the ground. Flying is just one example where rules have a place. What I am saying is that our rules can get out of balance, just as so many other aspects of our lives can get out of balance. Reaching for our tools in the right place and right time helps restore that balance. Reaching for our tools offers freedom. When I went into the round pen with a horse, I found myself tuning in the first tool I needed to reach for was curiosity, my brain, the tyrant Lynn on screen one screamed for me to know something, control something, finish the goal, my true nature. Alpha Lynn, on screen two, listened and waited the horse would show me where he was. I did not need to know everything to do. I simply needed to know the next thing to do. We don't control nature. We dance with it, taking us no ski lesson one day in the early part of this latest pressure journey, I found myself struggling at the end of a ski run with an instructor. He looked at me and said, Lynn, you are trying to control the skis. You didn't need to let the skis do what they do. They are made to turn. But I feel so out of control. I argued, you are going to feel that especially at first snow skiing is a dance with the mountain. Gravity always wins. You have to shift in every moment to be in harmony with the mountain. Let yourself feel the balance point as it moves. He said, notice that he didn't tell me what to do. He didn't say, move your weight here, or turn the ski on edge for a sharper turn, he painted a mental picture for me of what was really happening on the mountain. His guidance reflects my intention. For the readers of this book, it's not about having a formula, answers, hacks or Rules for Living. My journey is now uncovering the tools that came with me at birth, the teachers and pressures of this journey simply showed me the missing pieces to get in touch with my natural gifts, the gifts we were all given. We do not have to keep reliving our past, traumas and fears. We can rewrite the past if we choose to, quote, unquote, embrace the suck by feeling our feelings. It's uncomfortable, but so is spending energy to stuff our feelings, hiding from reality and beating ourselves up, living life this way, by welcoming the solvent of pressure, reaching for our tools, being the conduit, using our negative, positive pole to guide us and breaking the picture into the smallest frames, unleashes the true Spirit hiding underneath our armor. It makes us a little freer than we were before. With this mindset, having the perfect job, perfect spouse, perfect hobbies, no longer matter. What matters more is in doing our job, negotiating marriage, practicing our hobbies, we become on that ski trip, I had moments of Dancing with the mountain. They were fleeting, exquisite and elusive. Yet through my fear, I felt it a little more of me shined through as I rewrote my past. Fear of falling, the fear isn't going away. So what are we to do about the fear? We can stuff it, be overwhelmed by it, or we can choose something more life affirming. We can dance the tightrope. Thank you for listening to the creative spirits. Unleash podcast. I started this podcast because I was having these great conversations, and I wanted to share them with others. I'm always learning in these conversations, and I wanted to share that kind of learning with you. Now, what I need to hear from you is what you want more of and what you want less of. I really want these podcasts to be of value for the listeners. Also, if you happen to know someone who you think might love them, please share the podcast and, of course, subscribe and rate it on the different apps that you're using, because that's how others will find it. Now, I hope you go and do something very fun today. You.