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November 2009 
a story.
Posted on Apr 6th, 2009
by 
Siona
Siona
I love change, and I love transition, and I am happiest when things are not-nailed-down. I feel most comfortable when the world is formless with possibility, and dark and strange. I am also a bit of an anomaly.
I say this just to introduce a story that I recently rediscovered, a story that I first heard in a community building workshop, a number of years ago now. It's called Fear of Transformation, by Danaan Parry, and though it's a bit long, it's wonderful, and so true.
Here.
Fear of Transformation
Danaan Parry
Danaan Parry
Sometimes I feel that my life is a series of trapeze swings. I'm either hanging on to a trapeze bar swinging along or, for a few moments in my life, I'm hurtling across space in between trapeze bars. I spend most of the time hanging on for dear life to my trapeze-bar-of-the- moment. It carries me along at a certain steady rate of swing and I have the feeling that I'm in control of my life. I know most of the right questions and even some of the right answers. But once in a while, as I'm merrily (or not so merrily) swinging along, I look ahead of me into the distance, and what do I see? I see another trapeze bar swinging toward me. It's empty, and I know, in that place that knows, that this new trapeze bar has my name on it. It is my next step, my growth; my aliveness coming to get me. In my heart-of-hearts I know that for me to grow, I must release my grip on the present, well-known bar to move to the new one.I wanted to share this because our whole world feels as though we're in one of these spaces, and because I love her call for us to "dwell in the place that change happens." What better way to spend one's life? What better practice?
Each time it happens to me, I hope that I won't have to grab the new one. But in that knowing place I know I must totally release my grasp on the old bar, and for some moment in time hurtle across space before I can grab onto the new one. Each time, I am filled with terror. It doesn't matter that in all my previous hurtles across the void of unknowing, I have always made it. Each time I am afraid I will miss, that I will be crushed on the unseen rocks in the bottomless chasm between the bars. But I do it anyway. Perhaps this is the essence of what the mystics call the faith experience. No guarantees, no net, no insurance policy, but you do it anyway because somehow, to keep hanging onto that old bar is no longer on the list of alternatives. And so for an eternity that can last a microsecond or a thousand lifetimes, I soar across the dark void of "the past is gone, the future is not yet here." It's called transition. I have come to believe that this is the place where real change occurs.
I have noticed that, in our culture, this transition zone is looked upon as a "no-thing", a no-place between places. Sure the old trapeze-bar was real, and that new one coming towards me, I hope that's real too. But the void in between? That's just a scary, confusing, disorienting "nowhere" that must be gotten through as fast and unconsciously as possible. What a waste! I have a sneaking suspicion that the transition zone is the only real thing, and the bars are illusions we dream up, to avoid where the real change, the real growth occurs for us. Whether or not my hunch is true, it remains that the transition zones in our lives are incredibly rich places. They should be honored, even savored. Yes, with all the pain and fear and feelings of being out-of-control that can (but not necessarily) accompany transitions, they are still the most alive, most growth-filled, passionate, expansive moments in our lives.
And so, transformation of fear may have nothing to do with making fear go away, but rather with giving ourselves permission to "hang-out" in the transition between trapeze bars. Transforming our need to grab that new bar, any bar, is allowing ourselves to dwell in the place where change happens. It can be terrifying. It can also be enlightening, in the true sense of the word. Hurtling through the void, we just may learn how to fly.
And who knew that Gaia was really a flying circus? ;)
Access: Public
This is wonderful. Thank you.
It's a good day for me to see this, but then every day would be.
Thank you, Siona.
Beautiful post today.
I'm happy to be here with you in this flying circus.
XOX
tink: Yes, I felt the same way when I first heard it read to me. Exactly.
Ladybear: And what would a circus be without a circus bear? You're essential. :)
I would fly the trapeze any place you are leading Siona. You run the best net on the net. Part of the fun of this game is filling the voids and noticing that everything just turns out the ways its intended. Thank you for sharing this beautiful story.
This is really lovely, Siona! I'm a bar gripper. Or at the very least, I like to grit my teeth and “push through” the transition times with as little presence as possible. This story is such a beautiful reminder to savor the in-between spaces – to be friendly with them rather than treating them as adversaries to be conquered. Thanx for posting it.
It takes courage to relax in the dark unknown….embracing the fear and mystery…….thanks Siona for shining a light on it…
siona, thank you. I shared this with a couple of folks who are looking toward that middle space right now. myself, I feel more grounded than I ever have in my entire life. it's a very, very strange feeling for me. ;-D
wonderfully timed, Siona. May I link it to our discussion in the God Pod about fearless engagement? The Only Way (2)
KES: You're so welcome, aerial acrobat extraordinaire.
Tely: I think it takes both, yes? A tight grip when necessary and then…. soar….
waterheart: :)
Dawn: I laughed reading that. I can't imagine, you creature of the skies. (But then isn't that 'dawn' in a nutshell? That brilliant, colorful, ethereal link between earth and heaven? You touch both.)
Nicole: Oh, goodness. Of course!
;-)
I gave up news for Lent (and probably will continue to do so, even after Easter is past. I was telling a friend today, I feel people are drawing closer to their roots and to each other during this time of “transformation.” In childbirth, “transition” can be a turbulent, painful and disorienting time - if the women fights against each rapid-fire contraction. But, if she can remind herself that the “pain” means that things are happening quicker and it's a good thing, then she can get through it much easier… . .
(I just thought of something which made me smile though!) After transition comes the pushing! Hard work but well worth it.
The best thing we all can do is to be there for each other during this collective “birthing” of the world's consciousness. I am sending your story on to a few people whom I know will be comforted by it. Thanks so much for this.
“I have a sneaking suspicion that the transition zone is the only real thing, and the bars are illusions we dream up, to avoid where the real change, the real growth occurs for us.”
I think that is a brilliant suspicion, if one really looks at it and lies it under a magnifying glass, I think it IS the only real thing. Every moment is a moment of transition, aliveness. Nothing is ever static, eventhough some changes might seem more drastic than others, everything is always in a flux.
If we could just remember that a little more, it might give us some more faith during the changes that seem so scary.
Thanks Siona the story it's a great metaphor and I will take it with me on life's journey.
What a lovely story, and so true. It's scary in-between sometimes, but that's how we get from one delightful swing in the air to another. This was good to read this week. :)
The whole of the spiritual path may be summed up in the term ”non-clinging”, because through non-clinging love comes, through non-clinging the door to the Unconditioned opens, our heart and our will purified and prepared to receive the Will of God. The Buddha taught liberation through non-clinging, the main message in the Karma Yoga part of Bhagwad Gita is non-clinging, the list is endless.
The main mantra to grab the new trapeze bar is ”Let go. .. be non-attached”. As Bodhidharma said: “from moment to moment, the sages follow the way”.
thank you Siona. I will go and add the link now.
otter: I love your news-renunciation. What's wrong with getting your news from your immediate environment? From the weather around you, from the animals, from the sound of the wind in the trees and the voices of your neighbors? To my mind, this news is more trustworthy and more reliable and more true than anything else being broadcast. And yes, by all means share. I'd be honored.
Alluvja: Yes, exactly! Impermanence underlies everything. Nothing stays bright forever, but nothing stays dark, too. It's like being on a swing set, I think. Going up and going down can both be fun, and are both necessary for the ride.
Centria: You soar beautifully. :)
Eli: How about swinging instead of 'non-clinging'? I like thinking that there's an ongoing balance to be danced through, about holding for a time and then letting go. I suppose one could always just detach, but I like the fun of the ride, and having partners in the dance.
Nicole: :)
I'm so glad I came back and read this through, Siona. Lots of synchronicity took place to help me to appreciate it even further. I was speaking to my sister of the leap that I have needed to take in the past few days, in many aspects of life, which reminded me of something in childhood.
That terrifying gap between the last step and the platform of a playground slide. It used to take all my courage to take that step, a little up and a little back, some arm action…and voila!
I see that same movement in the trapeze, and in how not only each of us has transition points; but also how we together help each other through these times. Yes, life is a circus!
yes, a very nice metaphor, but it is only half the story of human change
for real change depends also on our ability to integrate our swing-experience. Often we do not manage to integrate immediately, somtimes we have to wait for years to be able to integrate a swing-experience that we left behind us long ago.
Meenakshi: It's been similar for me; I've come back to this story many times since I first heard it, and each time I've discovered something new.
And kris! I'd love to hear more. Do you mind giving an example of what integrating a swing-experience might be like? I think I'd do better with a story. :)
The trapeze story does express our feelings of relative safety and profound fear during the in-between periods perfectly well. But the image of integration (“ the transition zones being the real thing” ) it provides, I do not find illuminating. There is much more to say about this.Let us replace the trapeze world with the world of sea and boats and swimming. Let us compare our life with jumping from one boat to another in the middle of a wild (sargossa) sea. The life experiences in the boats symbolize the periods of relative comfort and safety, although there might be lots of conflicts, resembling Sartres “Huis Clos-environment”, as well, but all of them have something in common. It is getting familiar with the dynamic upward movement of the water. We tend to take refuge in boats, but sometimes we dive into the water to swim and to enjoy the feeling of being immersed by a substance that helps us to move freely, turn around effortless, dive, letting ourselves be pushed upwards to breathe, resting freely on the surface, noticing that our bodies are perfectly able to adjust to all the subtle movements of the water so that we can relax completely, and feeling there is no fear to get drowned. I remember my first jump into the seawater in the place where I was born, Den Helder, Holland, with wild waves and cold water. I did not want to be seen by my peers as a poor coward. So I jumped too and quickly discovered water is supportive. When I was 12 I moved with my parents to Curacao and learned to swim really well in the warm Caribbean sea. I learned to float and sleep. I even learned to swim in huge waves, just by relaxing and maximize the flexibility of my body. Funny, the big waves stimulate flexibility, so I noticed. As long as we do not fear, everything is going naturally. (as long as the water temperature is high…!) Let us push the water metaphor a bit more. First there is fear and the person who does not know how to swim is making the wrong movements all the time and will get drowned if not helped. Slowly we start understanding the power of the water, the way it pushes and pulls our bodies. Gradually we learn to respond adequately, we make the correct swimming movements rigidly first and than with more and more flexibility and ease. Even in such a way that the sea-environment appears to be the natural environment in which we can feel entirely relaxed and entirely at home, as much as dolphins do. Sure, we are not so quick of course and our breathing will never be as facile as the dolphin’s. However we can make substantial progress with breathing, especially when we dive deeply so that the heart beat slows down. Compare the subtle dynamics of the seawater with the dynamics of the equally subtle and complicated social environment. Like the sea the social environment can be stormy and apparently awkward, but we learn how to adapt. It can be tricky as there can be wild currents and movements that are impossible to resist. We learn to go along and discover we suddenly are free again, outside the current that took us on a different course. We learn how to trust others by respecting them. We learn how to make friendships and maintain them, we learn how to cooperate, we learn when it is time to negotiate and even fight. But we also learn how to move from fighting to negotiating and from negotiating to cooperating and peace again. And so on and so forth.The more we learn and therefore integrate and discover that living is in fact learning (as well as vice versa), the more we become aware of the mysterious power of the cosmic ‘ water’ and we let ourselves be immersed by it and becoming one with it. Maybe we should call it ‘ love’ or a bit less pathetic and more concrete ‘ inclusiveness’ , which is the opposite of ‘exclusinevess’. By including we lose our fear. By excluding we create fear. By including we learn, by excluding we rip ourselves from the opportunity to learn.And so onSiona, I was not planning to write such a long epistle, but it so happened. Hope I am clear and hope to hear from you again.Kris, as most people call me, though my real name is Brede
You were wonderfully clear, Brede, and you're a wonderful story-teller. The only objection I'd have is to your replacing 'love' with 'inclusiveness'; love is never pathetic. :)
But thank you for indulging me. That was just what I was hoping for.