Because I wrote a book about my experience of becoming a flying trapeze artist despite—or, rather, because of—a tremendous fear of heights, I receive emails from other flyers who, like me, are terrified. Recently, a young woman in California wrote asking advice about flying without safety lines. Like me, her instructors forced her to take the lines off. But, unlike me, she would prefer to keep them on.
After years of doing a sport that still scares me, I’ve learned my body is not the problem. It’s my head. Physically, I know my body is capable of doing the tricks and skills I learn in trapeze. When I mess up, it’s because my head gets in the way. I learned fairly quickly in trapeze that physically I’m stronger than I think. I remember the first time I caught a layout somersault without safety lines. That day, after 1.5 hours of flying, I’d missed the catch 8 times making the same mistake over and over. I was exhausted. I wanted call it a night, but my friend Sharon told me to try it one more time. “You can sleep when you’re dead,” she said. On that last attempt of the night, feeling bone tired, I tried one more time. I caught—and returned for the 1st time—a layout. It was a moment of pure bliss, a celebration of tenacity, a refusal to listen to my self-defeating head. My body proved to me it is stronger than I think.
Today, my challenge is remembering that emotionally and mentally I’m stronger than I think. When the negative thoughts bombard me, I can’t afford to believe they are truth or that I’m powerless to change them. I can’t afford to believe that my past will predict my future. No matter how many times I fail at something—whether it’s in trapeze or my career or my relationships—I know I have the strength to try one more time.
Here’s an excerpt of my book, Flying Free: Life Lessons Learned on the Flying Trapeze, Chapter 2, You’re Stronger Than You Think:
Chapter 2
You’re Stronger Than You Think
“It is really wonderful how much resilience there is in human nature.”
~ Bram Stoker (Dracula)
I’m lying face down, crumpled in the net, the result of my angel return, the new trick I’m learning, gone wrong. To execute the angel return after being caught by the catcher, instead of swinging with him and performing a half-turn back to my own fly bar, I lift my legs up to the catcher’s shoulders. He grabs one of my legs, the other one drops down toward the net as the catcher turns me over so that I’m in an arabesque position. He’s holding one of my arms and one of my legs. Done well, this simple—yet beautiful—trick looks like a ballerina dancing through the air. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to do it well.
Right before hitting the net, I hear the catcher blurt out a shaky, “Whoa,” as he drops me. The collective gasp from everyone else in the gym who happens to be watching my trick isn’t exactly comforting. The instructor on the ground asks if I need an ambulance. Adrenaline, a natural pain killer, pumps through me, yet I know I’m not injured. Pushing myself up gingerly, I crawl out of the net to a chorus of worried voices asking if I’m okay. I hear my friend Shannon say, “Nice net burn.” Every uncovered part of the left side of my body, including my face, is bruised.
“Get back up there right now,” Janene, the instructor, orders.
“Absolutely not,” I say with finality. Defying Janene is not something I do. I’m more afraid of her—in a good way—than I am of heights. I try to sit down.
“If you can walk, you can fly. Get. Back. Up. There. Now!”
My classmates nod in agreement. Sharon, the friend I’ve known the longest, who has been flying for years, calls down to me. “Come on, Lynnie. You’ve got to go again or you may never go again.”
I want to learn the angel return. For my upcoming forty-fifth birthday, I’m throwing myself a party, replete with a flying trapeze performance starring me and three trapeze friends: Cory, Mitchell and Shannon. The splits position catch to an angel return is my planned pièce de résistance. Not mastering the trick is not an option. Motivated by sheer vanity, instead of telling myself my old trapeze story—I’m scared—I try a new tactic to avoid panicking. “Okay,” I remind myself. “The worst that could happen just happened. And you’re fine. Just a little bumped up, but otherwise fine.” I’m actually talking to myself out loud.
“Just do the trick right and you’ll be okay,” Janene chimes in.
I’m understandably shaky as I grab the trapeze bar and call, “Listo,” which is trapeze—and Spanish—for “Ready.” I force a smile in an attempt to fool myself into thinking I’m happy. I hear the catcher call, “Ready. Hep.”
I jump off the board. I really don’t remember anything else, except that I ended up back on my own return bar, where I belong, without incident.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve done—and seen—things in trapeze class that look as if paramedics should be on the scene: flyers bouncing out of the net after a fall, flyers twisting violently off the bar when attempting to return to the platform, a flyer pulling the catcher off his trapeze bar with a bad trick and ill-advised catch, and flyer and catcher colliding as they bounced in the net. I’ve seen numerous falls to the net: head first, face first, and feet first—all of which were chilling to witness. I watched my friend Shannon perform one of the trickier tricks, a forward over, in which she swings out and pulls herself up onto the bar, resting on her hips. She releases the bar and executes a front somersault over it, extending her arms for the catch. Battling a stomach virus one day, Shannon’s timing a hair off, she slipped off the bar, which flew back into her face, breaking her nose. When the bleeding stopped, she got back on the trapeze and tried the trick again. That second attempt was flawless.
Life can seem so tenuous at times, anyone could be pardoned for believing humans are fragile creatures easily shattered by illness and accidents and numerous natural forces beyond our control. As further illustration of our inherent vulnerability, we can look at the global financial downturns and the alarming ease with which assets and pensions and mortgages can crumble. If you’ve lost a loved one, especially to an untimely or sudden death, you know not to take anything about life and wellness and security for granted.
And yet, we humans are a hearty lot. In trapeze I am constantly amazed by the human resilience I experience and witness regularly.
My resilience in life outside of trapeze has been put to the test in recent years. The evolution of publishing—changes which I failed to prepare for—dealt heavy economic blows to my editorial business in the years since 2008. I cobbled together a dramatically-reduced income with part-time jobs supplementing my freelance work. Coming close to conceding it was time to move on, I considered perhaps heading back to school for retraining in another field. But each time I seriously contemplated giving up on writing, I visualized that angel return. I remembered what one of my coaches, Darrell, said to me when I thought I was too weak, too beaten to attempt another trick I found difficult and frustrating: “You’re stronger than you think.”
I realized that is also true of my mental and emotional toughness.
One of the most important applications of resilience in real life arises in relationships. A romance gone wrong or a broken friendship can create a world of mistrust and fear of connecting. How many of us have been through heartache so devastating that we thought we’d never feel joy again? And yet, with time and willingness, we not only heal, but go on to enjoy even greater happiness and fulfillment in subsequent relationships.
The belief that I’m fragile and easily hurt caused me to avoid many potentially wonderful possibilities. I could not view any setback as just a bump in the road. Every glitch was a sign to quit, break up or run away. Lack of knowledge of my resilience caused me to play small and underperform in a variety of situations. “If I don’t take risks,” I reasoned, “I will never be in peril.” I didn’t realize back then that resilience was part of the human conditioning. Yes, tragedies occur and humans are not immortal. We are also not gossamer. Our bodies, minds, emotions and spirits have an inherent healing ability. Falls, drops, losses, breakups, progressing age, even illness, do not necessarily mean you can’t go on to future successes.
You are stronger than you think.
