“Fear is more of a problem than the problem feared.” ~ Audrey Sutherland
"Oh Susan, you're so brave, so courageous." Although my mother had used a different word, I've heard this notion over and over, usually referring to my accomplishments of paddling the Inside Passage. And it always stopped me dead in my tracks. For years, my knee-jerk reaction was to downplay it, dismiss it, deny it. But lately I've been compelled to take a deeper dive into this whole courage thing. To own it.
I honestly believe my courage came from, and will continue to come from, my deep desire to complete my objectives, and to stay safe. Let's begin by defining the word courage. Simply put, courage is the willingness, desire, and/or ability to do something that's scary, uncomfortable, or even dangerous. Being courageous doesn't mean you aren't afraid. It means you acknowledge the fear and push on anyway. Learning to trust in yourself is courage. And, the real biggie for me—letting go of fear is courage.
Fear, you say? I think anything worth doing in our lives, any kind of major endeavor, is going to have some fear attached to it. Fear is a wily enemy, and as a woman paddling alone on the Inside Passage, I entertained many fears, both real and imagined.
Here's an excerpt from my first book, "Inside: One Woman's Journey Through the Inside Passage": I feared big seas and swirling currents and whirlpools and boomers; I feared cantankerous waves that go “HISS” as they break beneath my hull; I feared bears; I feared capsizing, hypothermia, and drowning; I feared getting run over by big ships; I feared getting run over by small ships; I feared getting lost; I feared men with ill intentions; I feared what was at the other end of that snapping twig deep in the forest as I lay alone in my tent at night; I feared poor choices that could render me uncomfortable—or dead. I soon realized that my body could do this trip, but that my mind controlled it—a mind that was scared shitless at times.
I wrote this nine years ago and still stand by it. It's a mind game most of the time. And what works for me is to compartmentalize my fears. To ask myself if the fear I'm experiencing is directly proportionate to what's actually happening in front of my bow. So, is this a real, valid threat that demands immediate action, or is it a perceived threat based on my assumption that someone or something might harm me? For example: the seas are building and I'm far from shore. Landing is problematic anyway, as the surf is moving boulders around on the beaches. I'm fearful I might capsize. But my fear isn't proportionate to what's really happening. I'm not in the water. I'm still upright. The only immediate action I need to take is to keep paddling. Fear is only going to make me rigid, and more likely to go in the drink. So I put my fear in a box and I keep paddling. I keep my eye on the prize, some distant landmark perhaps where I can safely land. Is it always that easy? Nope. I'm human so sometimes my fear and I will engage in a robust tug-of-war; me courageously pulling away from the fear, then the fear yanking me back off balance. But in the end, it's about staying focused, and giving fear the big fat bird.
Another strategy that often works for me is to remind myself what Rosa Parks once said: "I have learned over the years that when one's mind is made up, this diminishes fear." On all of my seafaring excursions, I make up my mind that I am going to complete my objectives, stay safe, and have the adventure of a lifetime, and that dang fear is not going to get in my way.
One last fear-related excerpt from the book:
Paddling through the large swells and whitecaps of Dixon Entrance, I knew that I simply could not allow fear to linger in this equation. Fear would not—could not—be the arbiter on this journey. Instead I relaxed, let my hips swivel beneath me, and allowed the universe—the sky, the trees, the whales, the sea, the birds—to be behind me, with me, all around me. Fear would only freeze me in space and time. Loosening my corset of fear created more breathing room between my ribs and freed my diaphragm so I could focus and stay balanced. Many times fear prattled behind me. But I wouldn’t allow it to get ahead of me, for if I did allow it in my field of view, I would reinforce its power and weaken mine. And so I paddled wildly with fear at my back.
What fears, both real and imagined, do you face? How will you deal with them?
Riding out my fears while crossing Portland Inlet
Staying focused in the swell off Vancouver Island, BC
The biggest fear—public speaking!!
PLEASE NOTE: The sport of sea kayaking can be dangerous. Always seek qualified instruction before embarking on a kayaking adventure. Learn about seamanship, navigation, effective paddling strokes, rolls and rescues, and much more. Minutes to learn; a lifetime to master!
