Trusting the timing of life has always been a difficult thing for me. As much as I hate to admit it, I know myself enough to acknowledge I can’t sit still for too long. When one thing ends, the only thing to do is to get back up and move again. Immediately. Without too many pauses or breaths in between.
But here’s the thing…
We need the breaths. Those in between moments of nothing. Of waiting.
A Memory
A few months ago while spending some time in Switzerland I had the privilege of skiing in by far the most beautiful mountain range I have seen in my life thus far. I had never experienced skiing in a place such as this one, and admittedly, was very much just following random trails, going with the flow, ultimately not realizing that I was getting further and further away from my original starting point. To make a long story short, after veering off on several different trails- completely by myself by the way- I hopped on a chairlift to bring me back up. As time lengthened, I turned around only to see I was hovering above just about everything I had seen that entire day…
As I hopped off the lift, my stomach dropped. All day, I had marveled at a high peak in the far distance appreciating its beauty- and now… I was standing at the very top of it. Not to mention, there was only one trail down- no choice between a green square or a black diamond- just a straight downhill waiting for me to take it on.
Knowing I had no other choice, I started. Only a couple minutes in, I lost control and did my fair share of somersaults down the mountain. With both skis somehow still on, I quickly realized one of my poles was left far up the mountain. I accepted that I would only be skiing with one pole- until a kind passerby stopped to hand it off to me on their way down.
Here I was, completely wiped out on the side of a mountain- no idea how I was going to get down.
Without really giving myself a second, I grabbed my poles and attempted to get up- attempted being the keyword… As what seemed to me as pro level skiers all zoomed past me, here I was, a little lost, and feeling defeated. How the heck was I going to get up and more importantly… How was I going to make it down? After rushing time and time again to throw myself back up to my feet- skis still on- it felt pretty impossible.
And then I took a breath…
I was in THE Swiss alps… with crisp air and mountains I’d only ever seen in magazines. What was the rush? Sure I’d have to get down eventually, but clearly rushing to get myself back up wasn’t working, so why not just sit for a second?
So, I did.
I sat on that side of the mountain and gave myself the time I needed. To be quite honest I didn’t even keep track; 5 minutes, 10 minutes, it didn’t matter anymore. I scooted to the side and just sat, taking deep inhales and exhales of the surrounding air, just staring at the landscape before me. A moment that started with such apprehension, anxiety, and a tad bit of hopelessness had somehow very quickly turned into peace.
After I took those moments, I figured it was finally time to try again- and wouldn’t you know… first try, I was immediately back up on my feet. How was it so easy this time? Why was it such a struggle before?
Time.
I gave myself time.
We all fall down in life- both figuratively and physically. There may be whole phases, months, or situations that feel like one big fall.
Of course I hope we all can find the strength within ourselves to rise again- but when you go to rise, be gentle with yourself. Give yourself time. Find what you can look to in that moment- just as I looked to the mountains. Sit with yourself, take a breath, and give yourself grace to rise again, all in your own time.
