The joy of fear

You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. … You must do the thing you think you cannot do. – Eleanor Roosevelt

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This quote is a touchstone for me; my main intention in starting this blog was to chronicle my attempts to follow Eleanor Roosevelt’s advice and thereby become a stronger, braver, more confident version of myself. I’ve mentioned this quote to dozens of people over the years, and almost every time, the person I’m talking to brings up a time that s/he “felt the fear and did it anyway.” This week, though, two very different people who have never met each other responded to the quote in a very different, and (to me, at least) unusual way: both said that they were so stubborn and determined that they couldn’t remember ever thinking anything was beyond them as long as they tried hard enough.

I have to admit that I found this completely incomprehensible. Never felt intimidated or overwhelmed? Never endured insecurity or self-doubt? Never suspected they’d bitten off more than they could chew? Never worried about what other people would think or how they might react? Never feared the repercussions of going against the crowd?  Never hesitated, even briefly, to say, “I wonder if this is going to work out”?

Never? Not even once?

That seems more than impossible to me; it seems superhuman.

But the flip side — being ruled by doubt — seems equally impossible. I confess that I’ve certainly  hung back, kept quiet, delayed, denied, avoided, procrastinated, made excuses, taken the path of least resistance, or simply gone along with the crowd from time to time. The axiom about how the nail that sticks up gets hammered down rings all too true for me some days. Let’s face it: it’s a lot easier, plain and simple, not to do the things you think you can’t do.

But it’s also not as satisfying.

There’s joy in looking fear in the face. In standing up for yourself. In defending someone else. In risking rejection. In entering competition. In challenging conventional wisdom. In claiming authority. In setting boundaries. In examining your preconceptions. In defying your prejudices. In redefining your priorities. In confronting your phobias. In speaking your mind, as activist Maggie Kuhn said, “even if your voice shakes.”

Fear — not terror, but a healthy concern for consequences — is part of the human condition. It’s normal to think you can’t do something. It’s also normal to go ahead and give it a shot anyhow.

This week, find something you didn’t think you could do, and then do it. And come back here and tell me about it.

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In which I play in traffic

Several years ago, a friend passed her old mountain bike on to me. I was very excited at first. I imagined zipping nimbly around like the people in Amsterdam who commute merrily hither and thither on their beater bikes. I bought padded bike shorts (because I thoroughly approve of any sport for which my own natural padding is inadequate). I even starting thinking about getting panniers, or at least a basket, in which I pictured myself bringing home a baguette and a bouquet of flowers or something equally charming.

Then I realized 2 things:

1. Although my neighborhood is fairly flat, San Francisco has some very big hills. And I am somewhat lazy.
2. Although San Francisco has a lot of bicyclists and bike lanes, the cars are bigger and more numerous. And I am terrified of getting doored, clipped, or just plain mown down.

As a result, I didn’t ride nearly as much as I thought I would. Yes, I downloaded the SF Bike Map, which not only shows all the official bike routes, but color-codes every street in the city to indicate how steep it is (this is also very useful for walking). I used it to help me figure out where to pedal in my own ‘hood and how to get to the bike paths in Golden Gate Park with minimal risk, but I didn’t dare venture farther.

Until today!

I figured that if I was going to confront my fear of riding on city streets, I should do it on Sunday, when traffic is light, and in the nice, flat, comparatively bike-friendly Mission District. So I rode my bike a few blocks to a bus stop, where I loaded it onto the handy-dandy bike rack Muni provides on the front of its buses. The bus took me up and over the ridge that runs through the center of town. I got off at 18th Street and Valencia. And then I rolled up my jeans, strapped on my helmet, and rode merrily along bike lanes and side streets until I got to Precita Park, where a bunch of street food vendors were dishing it up for a small crowd and a film crew from the Food Network.

I rewarded myself for my courage with a lavender creme brulee and a grilled Gruyere sandwich with onion/fennel/bacon jam before heading home again. Gotta keep up my strength.

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The power of pleasure

Two challenging things are especially difficult at the holidays: being pleasurably social and losing weight. The first is hard because it’s all too easy to get caught up in a whirl of frantic, obligatory, and not terribly enjoyable festivities. The second is hard because, well, cookies. (Need I say more?) And yet somehow I’m managing to do both.

For the first, I’ve been forcing myself to get out of the house even when it’s dark and cold. I’ve had cocktails with friends, attended a gathering for people who like to travel, met other friends for brunch, enjoyed a private tai chi lesson, hit a couple of useful support groups, and most impressively (at least from the inside), gone out alone to several evening events full of strangers. My DSLR has served me well on several occasions as a security blanket; I’ve discovered that it’s a useful prop to hide behind in moments of social anxiety or introversion, yet I can still step out from behind it when I want to connect on more than a small-talk level. And the more I make an effort, the more I’m remembering that expanding my horizons — although it can sometimes be intimidating — is more fun than scary.

For the second, well, it’s all down to willpower, isn’t it? I’m counting calories, I’m paying attention to portion size, and to my intense delight, it’s taken me less than 6 weeks to get 2/3 of the way to my goal weight. It’s boring and frustrating sometimes. (Go ahead, try to figure out the caloric and nutritional stats for something you didn’t make from a recipe. It sometimes takes me longer to do that than to cook the dang stuff.) It also means passing up some of my favorite treats, at least for now. But I’ve also built in a little wiggle room so I don’t bust out in deprivation-and-resentment-driven rebellion. I can overdo it today if I make up for it tomorrow; it all averages out. I’m doing this because I want to, not because I have to. Life isn’t, and shouldn’t be, all about trying to achieve some misery-inducing standard of perfection.

Which is why last night I went to Street Food Friday at an art gallery, took a bunch of pictures, chatted with half a dozen people including the gallery owner and two of the food vendors,  and ate an adorable little dark chocolate creme brulee with crushed candy cane melted on top before ordering a plate of vegetable curry.

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My Hobo-hemia is the place to be

I like to sing. I’m told I have a decent voice, but I’ve never had any vocal training, so while I can easily be persuaded to belt one out when I’ve been drinking, I’m still self-conscious about it. So it was a very big deal to me indeed on Thanksgiving when, surrounded by a group of people who are almost all either choir members or professional musicians (or both), I stood next to a piano and sang “The Lady is a Tramp.”

I like the green grass under my shoes
What can I lose?
I’m flat, that’s that
I’m all alone when I lower my lamp
That’s why the lady is a tramp

I’m no Ella, that’s for damn sure, and I squeaked a little because I was a little out of my register, but… I did it!

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Gratitude

I am grateful for Green Apple, for the Blue Danube, for Olive, for Trader Joe’s, for Zipcar, for Golden Gate Park, for Apple, for all the farmers’ markets, for Soma.fm, for Sonic.net, for Flickr, and even for Muni.

I am grateful for my cute, affordable, conveniently located apartment.

I am grateful for my friends, from the ones I’ve known for years to the ones I’ve only known a few months.

I am grateful that some of my friends are family.

I am grateful that whatever health issues I have are minor and easily managed without too much effort or expense.

I am grateful for my adorable, infuriating cat.

I am grateful for a job I’m good at, that supports me and interests me and occasionally brings me into contact with fascinating people.

I am grateful for my brain, and especially grateful that it works well.

I am grateful for the Internet, which is even better than my childhood fantasy of being able to visit every library in the world.

I am grateful to have the time and opportunity to explore some of my interests.

I am grateful for cashmere sweaters.

I am grateful for my new oven, in which I am currently baking the best-smelling pumpkin pie ever.

I am grateful for an awe-inspiring support system which is helping me pursue and achieve dreams of all sizes.

I am grateful to have become the person I am, because things could so easily have been different.

I’m so very fortunate.

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