Operation: One Fish, Two Fish...Letting Go

I went rock climbing today for the first time. My friend joined a rock climbing gym recently and was looking for new recruits to participate with her. Partially in an effort not to obsess with my new project (see previous blogs) and partially to continue with my mission to be open to new experiences, get more exercise and spend more time with friends, I decided to join her.

Anyone who has ever gone hiking with me, is likely reading this in shock. My hikes usually consist of me tripping, trying to breathe, swearing, trying to keep up, and generally not being very happy and taking it out on the people around me. It's not my best side. But here's the thing about the climbing wall--I liked it a lot! And there was far less swearing.

I'm sure that my arms, back, etc. will be sore tomorrow, and probably the next day, but it was a great experience. I was able to progress at my own pace and not feel like anyone was laughing at me or judging my ability to scale the wall--even if it was on the wimpy pink route.

I digress. Back at the warehouse-turned-Boulder, in between finding my footing, I'm telling my friend about this new adventure called online dating, explaining how I arrived at this "give it a go" stage. She is in turn telling me to look for the pink tape that is used in place of bread crumbs and encouraging me to just reach a little further and stretch a little more. It was then, hanging on purple-taped rocks, willing myself to make it around the corner, that I had an epiphany.

It occurred to me that I couldn't go any further until I could let go--risking stability, but reaching deeper, going higher. I needed to trust, both myself and the universe, that I could accomplish this. But more specifically I needed trust myself to let go of the current rock I was clinging to in order to reach for the next one.

I never expected to have a lesson in dating, and really in life, at the climbing wall.