Essay 9

The Grip of Fear

I remind myself to breathe. As my legs tighten and twitch, I notice a slight tremble throughout my body. My stomach is simultaneously tight and gurgling. My palms are sweaty. This is fear in Technicolor. It is deep within me and has a firm grip, no less firm than my grip on the rock around me.

I am at the top of Horseman, a classic rock climbing route in the Shawangunk Mountains. With two friends I have just climbed this route, using ropes and climbing gear to ensure our safety. It is 150 feet straight down. I am tethered to a tree, straining my neck to look out over the edge at the challenge that lies ahead. In a few minutes, I will let go of my tree and rappel down the face I worked so hard to climb. This is my first rappel. And I am scared.

I take in the beautiful view of the New Paltz valley. It is a perfect Spring day. The happy message my eyes send to my brain is reaching a roadblock. Fear is generating digestive distress instead. Terror is not easily distracted.

I savor the accomplishment of this climb. I have seen this wall of rock from a distance many times before. I never thought I would scale this cliff...fear again hijacks my consciousness. Any attempts at self acknowledgment have been temporarily interrupted by the emergency fear broadcast system. The message is on every channel. I will just have to accept it, to choose to be afraid and take the fear with me nonetheless. Denying this fear is impossible.

I hook into the rope as I have been trained to do, inch to the edge and lean back against my harness into open space. I hold my breath and slowly lower myself the first few inches. I dare not focus on anything but the rock in front of me and the rope in my hands. I suddenly realize that I am not afraid to lower myself with ropes and tools I have used so many times before in the indoor climbing gym. If I keep my focus on the task at hand, this is actually quite easy.

I realize what terrifies me is interpretations manufactured in my mind. The exposed face I am descending makes me feel vulnerable. There is nothing rational about this feeling-my rope and harness don’t care. My mind has manufactured the possibility of a sudden fatal wind gust that would blow me off this face. But at present, the wind is calm.

As I descend, another notion amplifies in my head. Something terrible might happen in the lower portion of this rappel. There, the rock falls away and my feet will no longer contact the wall. I will be hanging like a spider in mid-air.

My equipment is still indifferent. It has more than enough capacity to support me. I merely have to trust it. My worries only live in my head. They are not real. I start to regain a sense of control, now that I have made these distinctions.

There is certainly an element of risk; the rope could break and I could die. But I could have died if we crashed in the car that brought me up the thruway at 70 miles per hour to this site. In the car I was focused on driving, not crashing. I return my focus to lowering, not falling. And it works. I start to enjoy the ride. As my feet touch down at the base of the cliff, it is over. I have embraced fear and moved through it by staying focused on the tasks at hand.

Next time I step off a cliff, I will have a new tool in my climbing gear to help me distinguish the rational and irrational components of fear. The rational side heightens awareness and protects me. The irrational side paralyzes and shuts me down. The ability to make this distinction provides the power to move forward in the face of fear, no matter how big or small the cliff.

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