In the last few years, the month of November is filled with reminders of my personal pendulum. The sway see-saws as I move from sadness to happiness, struggle to grace, and darkness to light. This November the same pattern continued. I’ve experienced some of the same emotions. My vague undertones and overtones color my words. I am sorry, but my ambiguity is purposeful.
I am holding back. Even I am willing to acknowledge that all stories cannot be told. Because not everyone can or is willing to understand what we carry. And what we sometimes hide.
These reflections culminated in a moment I experienced over Thanksgiving. For the second time, I decided another feeble attempt to ski. I already felt heavy, the ski pants and jacket felt like an astronaut suit on my body. As soon as I landed in my ski boots, I took a single step. Each movement felt as if I not only carried the gravity of my current emotions, but also the weight of what I couldn’t see or feel. My arms hugged my skis and poles and the imbalance materialized in my walk. Each step, even before I hit the ice, was tentative.
Even with all this hesitation, I committed this slice of time to skiing. With an awkward shift, I moved my boots into the skis. The slipping and sliding was expected. I steadied myself, shifting the weight of my body so I could stand without falling. I kept repeating, “You can do this. You got this.” I looked up and saw that so many were doing perfect circle eights in the snow and they stopped and started in their skis as if their whole life they prepared for this particular meeting with the ice.
Firm with conviction, I placed one ski on the sliding escalator that led to slope and the unforseen happened. I slipped not on the ice, but the moving belt. Tilted to the side, I stared ahead for a moment. Inside I filled up with a little anger. Why did I fall? Why couldn’t I just get this? It led to other bigger questions as I struggled to convince the skis to separate from my boots. Several minutes later, I pulled myself up and gathered my skis, poles, and ambled toward a nearby bench.
Inside I welled up with tears. At that single tick of time, I realized that sometimes I am tired of the process. The process is hard and filled with no guarantees. And it may not lead to success. Or it may.
I understood something about myself. What is holding me back? I am unwilling to commit to the fall.
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
Rudri, I feel you. Not easy to be honest with us and yourself. There are times that I write from a painful place and I don’t think that I can share it because it’s hard to put ourselves out there. But every time I allow myself to open up and to be judged by others I feel a little lighter. I feel as if the burden of carrying the stories becomes a salvation of sorts. We are afraid of the fall and that’s okay. We can’t excel in everything . Embrace all the things that you do well and venture out and try things that you want to do…you will fall, but you will get up. Thanks for sharing. xoxo
Rudri,
You’re right not all stories need to be told. I pray for peace and balance for you in whatever is causing you unrest. Big hugs to you.
” What is holding me back? I am unwilling to commit to the fall.” – you have know idea how close this hits home for me. I’m going to think about this awhile and perhaps I can cushion myself for the fall and proceed with something I’ve been attempting yet holding back on for some time…thank you for those words today.
Rudri, if I might add a twist as someone who has been skiing since she was knee high and can fly down a mountain on skis, in fact loves that feeling of freedom more than just about anything else in the world, it’s also sometimes fear that holds us from letting go and flying in those boots and skis. I’ve been with many new skiers and it IS that fear of falling that holds them back. Just like with writing or any creative process. But when we stop thinking about the falling aspect and stop fighting the mountain, the mountain holds us and invites us to enjoy. Loved this post and metaphor.
Sharing your heart is a huge thing, thank you so much for sharing. Its so hard not to want to hold onto the reigns so tightly that we forget to live while grabbing at the control.
Visiting from Saturday Sharefest
What an awesome post!!! I’m not a skier either. But I also don’t care to be, I’m a south Texas give-me-sun kind of girl. But oh my — that last line — afraid to commit to the fall. There are many other areas in my life where that’s the case. Thanks for this gentle kick.
Have you read “Flinch?” It’s a great short book, free on Amazon. It’s kind of about being afraid of the fall — we flinch too much when it’s not necessary.
Happy SITS today!
Beautifully put, Rudri 🙂
Someone I respect told me that all learning is trial and error, and I was stunned by this because I assumed that if I made errors this meant I would never learn. I admire that you went to the mountain, and are going within yourself to learn more about your beliefs about yourself.
Wow. You said it all in the last sentence. Thank you for this post. What’s holding me back, too is me. Unwilling to fall, fail, so why attempt.
Visiting from Sharefest. I will be back to reread this and hopefully step forward.
Rudri, I love the metaphor of the skiing to help depict your feelings.
Your words are so powerful Rudri. I hope you can find some peace.
Once again I can relate so well to your words. Even your story about your frustration skiing brought back a very vivid memory of the one and only time I ever tried skiing (I had the same experience as you). I’ve been struggling with the same fear my entire life, and only over the last few years have I allowed myself to attempt to commit to the process, the journey, and to risk failure. I still remember in the 4th grade my teacher had written in my report card that I was so unwilling to accept making mistakes. Indeed, I have hated it so much that unless I know I can do something easily and well, I have often just not bothered to try at all. I feel that this was the reason I lived in Japan for nearly a decade and yet never learned the language well; I knew I could never become fluent, and so I didn’t even want to try to learn what really felt like an impossible language.
But you took a first step, Rudri, in trying to ski. I have learned that it just takes small steps…especially that first one. It has also helped me to watch my son trying and getting better at various things. If he should do this, why not I?