Open To The Unexpected

While on holiday in Ostional, Costa Rica, inspiration struck. I invited a small group of folks to "Jump!" with me - specifically relating to the upcoming Divinity Adventure.

This moment of inspiration led me to remember all of the fears stirring in my mind before I embarked on my trip to South Africa last year. While it was an extraordinary personal growth adventure, I certainly didn't make it easy on myself.

It started with simple fears - "time and money!" How could I, in good conscience, take this much time away from my husband, my cats, my clients? My brain decided such a trip evidenced an abundance of self-indulgence and a bit of irresponsibility. Obviously, I couldn't go.

Plus, I couldn't imagine spending THAT MUCH MONEY on a single trip. So, of course, I wouldn't go.

And then I realized...hmm... I'd just fallen prey to the first line of defense for adult fear: "I don't have the time; I don't have the money." It's the most common excuse I hear from every adult I know, and I used it right up front, until I caught myself - put down my deposit, bought my ticket - and looked deeper within.

Let me tell you, deeper hardly squelched the fear! Instead, a whole wide range of concerns revealed themselves.

1) It's going to be a really long couple of flights. How am I going to handle that? And I already know that I get motion sickness, unless I take drugs...uggh...

2) How will my body respond to the whole time difference thing? Jet lag stinks! What if my entire trip is ruined, because my internal clock is off?

3) Which hotel is going to be close to the airport, with a shuttle, and safe for me to stay at, because I'm traveling alone...and...well, you know, safety first!

As you can see, I delved fast and deep into the fear pool. But wait, there's more...

4) So, with this volunteering thing, I have to be able to lift about 45lbs by myself, without injury. Can I do that? Is my body able to do the physical work that will be required of me? What if I can't keep up?!

5) I'll be spending 14 days, non-stop, with other people. I don't even LIKE people! What was I thinking? What if the other volunteers get along really well, and I don't get along with anyone? Or worse, what if everyone really likes me, and they won't leave me alone? I need my alone time!

6) Will I pack the right stuff? What kind of shoes do they really mean? Am I buying the right kind of gloves?

The list went on and on. Still, I chose to listen to the call within that urged me to go.
And when I arrived, not one single thing that I had been afraid of manifested as a problem. NOT ONE! Instead, the very last thing I could have imagined stopped me in my tracks. I was afraid of the cats.

The cheetahs, the servals, the caracal - they are still wild. Their original programming of being the creatures they are meant to be is fully intact, despite the enclosures and contact with humans. I could feel it. I saw it in their eyes, and it wigged me right out.

I'm absolutely and completely a cat person. If you've been reading my writings for a while, you know this about me. And, of all the possible scenarios my mind had dreamed up about what I must prepare for, this one tidbit never occurred to me. The power of these beings - the natural, feral energy they exuded, rocked me back on my heels.

I was the only volunteer present that appeared to be impacted in this way. This provided a paradigm shifting opportunity for me. Yes, fear happens. And, yes, I may reach for whatever control I believe I have access to...yeah, yeah, I know...that's exactly no control, but I reached anyway in an attempt to feel safe. Then, my mind was undeniably blown by the fear that arose - a fear I'd never anticipated.

So, I had a choice, do I hold onto all of the fears I brought with me - as a means of insulation from what's real in the moment? Or, do I be with the one experience I didn't expect, and learn how to be present - free of control - surrendering to the unknown - and allowing new information to come in and be integrated? I chose the latter.

At the Dell Cheetah Centre, one cheetah is known as the "ambassador." Once introduced, we were free to visit him independently at any time. In the beginning, I absolutely couldn't bring myself to enter his enclosure alone. I saw something in his eyes that first day, and it struck a space in me that said "Danger!"

This meant, when my turn to feed the ambassador came up, I could NOT bring myself to feed him alone. My free time never included one-to-one time with this "teen-aged" cub (he hadn't quite reached adulthood yet), and on the cheetah exercise mornings, I needed company walking this cheetah on a lead...until I didn't.

By the end of my two weeks, I fed this beautiful being with no supervision or hesitation of any kind. While I didn't spend one-to-one time with him, it was because I felt more attracted to some of the other creatures, than "the ambassador." And by the last cheetah run, I'd learned how to properly walk with this handsome guy on his lead, and had the honor of walking him back to his enclosure (which meant some interesting detours, because he's really strong!)

The day before the founder of the Centre drove us to our Kruger National Park field trip, Hardus (the day-to-day operations manager) offered me some tips and advice. Again, my anticipatory fears came roiling up at his idea of walking the fence line in the dark with a head torch to see animals at night. When my fear based questions fired hard and fast, he said, "Don't be scared. You're here to have an adventure, and you're safe. Enjoy it."

It may have been some of the best advice I've ever received. I am here on this earth to have an adventure, and wherever I am, I'm safe. I'm still learning this, and I'm grateful for the lesson. When I trust in my own essential safety, regardless of the circumstances, I relax into the experience and gain so much more than I could possibly imagine.

There is a quote I love from Michael Bernard Beckwith, "Pain pushes until the vision pulls." In my case, the call to see the animals before they're gone, was the vision, and it pulled me through all of the self-inflicted pain I'd created. It led me to discover a new experience of surrender and safety.

When I remember I am safe - the kind of safety that is about my essence being inherently okay, regardless of what feelings might arise - I open to the unknown. From this place, I feel the connection to my own divinity, and allow an expansiveness of experience beyond what my brain has conceived. I don't mean that I live moment to moment at this growing edge, but I know the importance of visiting, and often allow myself to sit at this edge and dangle my legs. Then, on occasion, I jump! Only after the jump do I remember I can fly. Who knew?

With love and encouragement to fly,
Joanne Lutz