Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Day 9: Caught Somewhere Between Heaven and Earth

Ok, confession: when I initially thought about, and signed up to go heli-skiing in Alaska I thought we were just- going on a ski trip.  ‘I like skiing’ I thought ‘doing that in Alaska would be cool’.  Ok, second confession:  I asked every single person that I knew if they thought it was a good idea.  And the response varied across the board
‘Hell yeah! That’s awesome!’
‘Wait, Alaska?! You can’t ski that, can you?’
‘Are you going to jump out of the helicopter?’

And my response to each person only eased his or her anxiety.
‘Yeah, thanks!  It is awesome’
‘Well, I’m sure going to try’
‘As far as I know- no one has ever jumped out of the helicopter’

None of this did much to ease my own, though.  I actually started this process with a lot of ‘maybes’ and a lot of questions.  Am I good enough to handle it?  How am I going to get off of work?  Do I want to invest my time and money into this or something more socially acceptable?  Then I was talking to a coworker about the trip and he said something that has carried me though the trip ‘wait, what if you did go?’ he said ‘picture for 5 seconds, yourself actually going’.  And so I did… and something felt so right about it.  So, immediately after those 5 seconds I started planning.  Things started falling into place, airplanes booked, time off of work, ready, set, go.

It wasn’t until I actually got here that I realized this trip was about so much more than skiing.  It was about letting go, and holding on, and erasing ‘shoulds’ and ‘maybes’ from my vocabulary.  For the longest time I was the kind of person that needed an opinion from everyone before I did something.  It didn’t matter much what their opinion was, it just mattered that I heard it.  I’ve spent my entire life doing the things that people want me to, or that are socially acceptable.  I think they call that a ‘people pleaser’.

I first got to the airport with my typical ‘what the hell did I just get myself into’ attitude, but upon landing I realized what it was.  I got myself into a week of education from Lynsey, the other girls around me, our guide, and the mountains.  Open and honest communication is an essential tool of the backcountry.  If you sense something is wrong and don’t speak up you are not only risking your life but those around you as well.  These tools paralleled into our moment-to-moment activities and interactions easily.  We all were quickly on a journey together exploring conversation topics such as saying yes, leaning into the unknown, life, love, and cereal.  Ok, third confession:  I didn’t realize how difficult it has been for me, in the past, to say yes.  Something about this trip felt right though and made it easy, and boy am I glad I did.   

Our guide Harlan was not only our mountain guide but our spiritual guide as well.  He spoke of the hero’s journey; saying yes, leaving home, and conquering our own personal demons- which struck a different cord in each of us since we were all here for different reasons.  We were encouraged to speak up when we were feeling something, which gave me the confidence to speak up on top of the mountain.  I consider myself a pretty good skier but the day before had been long and on our final run I got caught up in some slough and lost a ski.  We looked for a little bit but eventually Harlan and I had to tandem ski to the helicopter landing zone to end our day.  Tandem skiing in 12 inches of powder- not easy, and wasn’t something that was on my bucket list until I did it.  I didn’t think something like that would affect me until the next morning when we were rushed out of bed for a few runs before the weather went bad.  Having to skip morning meditation and stretchy time after the way that we ended the previous day left me unsettled.  And you know what’s funny… I wasn’t the only one feeling that way.  I could tell that one of my new sisters was feeling the same way.  Feeling that for myself and as a part of her- and speaking up about it- made it so that everyone was safe in the mountains.  And, if you’ve never done grounding and meditation practices on top of a mountain, while heli skiing in Alaska, with Lynsey and Harlan, I suggest you give it a try.  Oh, and did I mention that we were late getting to the helicopter because there were 7 yellow lab puppies outside of our door?  Mountains, skiing, puppies, friendship… if that’s not caught between heaven and earth, I don’t know what is.

Lynsey was also an amazing role model.  She showed us how to be strong both mentally and physically.  Before our very first run she was there telling us to feel our feet on the ground and to breathe into our toes.  She stood up for her girls when it mattered, and with poise and grace.  She taught us to ski from our vaginas, keep our shoulders pointing down the hill, and that you ski better when you're wearing jeans.  The way that she honestly and openly talks about the sport of skiing and the things in life that make her scared and vulnerable is inspiring and rare.  And, even though we had to wait for her to make 5 trips to do anything… at least the girl can write a mean rap about Alaska.  I’m incredibly grateful that she feels drawn to spreading the lessons of the mountains with others, and I don’t know that I will ever be able to show her just how unique that is.


I don’t suspect that I’ll know how it is that I’ve changed until it comes out of me.  There will be a time and place when I surprise myself and I’ll smile knowing that I had the spirit of this trip with me.  I did set intentions for life post Alaska though; I will seek less validation for my choices, I will challenge the ‘shoulds’, ‘maybes’, and anything that doesn’t have me saying ‘fuck yeah!’ I will continue to follow my sense of adventure (after all- it is what got me here), and I will play the manifest game a lot more J. I won’t ever forget the lessons that I’ve collected on this trip.  I learned how to search with an avalanche beacon, I learned how to let go of the things in life that hold me back, I learned that my intuition matters and I need to speak up when it is telling me something.  I learned that sometimes you need to take a detour on a run to play magical unicorns … and most importantly, I learned that following your own path in life is important, whether it is rocky or smooth, wobbly or stable, it’s yours and that’s what makes it so special. <3

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