Teetering On The Edge

TEETERING ON THE EDGE.....(My Story)


I have written about fear many times in this blog, but there is always more to know about this most primal instinct. Whether it's facing a math test you didn't study for or realizing that some suspicious character is following you down a dark, deserted street, fear can certainly be unpleasant. Being in a heightened state of "fight or flight" has the potential to save your life in a dangerous circumstance. Fear can also keep you frozen in place when you reach a critical point in a situation, unable to move on or make a change that restores calm. I read somewhere that people fear public speaking more than they fear death. Some people are afraid of bugs or germs, closed spaces, intimacy, leaving their house, doctors, and the list goes on.

I was forced to face my greatest fear -- and it wasn't public speaking -- in a rain forest on top of a mountain in Quepos, Costa Rica, on horseback I might add. A group of us took the trip to check on an adventure tour project we had invested in. My nightmare began as seventeen of us prepared to ride our horses up and down a winding path, approximately 2 Km (1.2 miles) through a thick jungle and, finally, up a mountain 1,500 feet above sea level. We had built a lodge up there with amazing views of the forest and valley below, along with a canopy run that would give tourists the ride of a lifetime through the tree tops of the rain forest.

I have always had a fear of heights. I traced its source to a past life experience in which, as part of a ritual sacrifice, I was sent over a cliff and to my death. But I've also always felt that wisdom about life is attained by taking everyday events and treating them as adventures. With that belief in place, a huge amount of trust and a good dose of denial, I waited for a hitch up to the back of a 6 ft. horse. I examined the colorful blanket that served as a saddle and then I noticed the twisted jute stirrups and rope reins. A bit rustic, I thought...gulp.

True to the old adage that ignorance is bliss, I never thought to ask about travel conditions and didn't know the rainy season wasn't quite over yet. So, off we went, up a trail filled with twists and turns, each one more exciting than the last, and never knowing when a Toucan would pop out of the bushes or a black jaguar would show his piercing green eyes through the leaves. I was eager to see what was around each bend, every bit of magic and beauty the mountain had to offer. Suddenly, the trail came to an abrupt halt, ahead of me a 300 foot drop where the path had been washed away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw what looked like "little people," about twelve of them. Later, I learned they are known as the "Parras," a group of indigenous people who live on the mountain. Swinging their machetes, they cut a new trail for us, and then it began to rain. This wasn't any kind of rain I was used to on Long Island but a downpour of monsoon proportions! I could see the trail ahead getting very narrow and, as my heart skipped a beat, my horse started slipping in the mud, one right hoof hanging over a cliff. Thinking I would fall and having all kinds of flashbacks to my past life experience, I let myself slide off the struggling horse and land on my back on what little was left of the soggy red dirt mountain path. Now my legs were hanging off the cliff too and I was terrified of standing up, knowing the dirt would continue to give way. The horse righted herself but I could not. I turned my head to look down to the forest below and saw millions of spirits flying around. Later, it was explained to me that they are earthbound souls who chose to stay together. I thought I was a goner and that I might well end up joining them.

Again the Parras came to my aid. They gave me a walking stick that was taller than I was, and forced me to climb the mountain, urging me on as the dirt continued to give way with each step I took. I couldn't turn around, or run, or do anything but move forward. I kept falling and sliding down the muddy slope, ripping my pants and tearing my shoes to shreds, and still they pushed me on.

Ahead of me, up on another cliff, a new horse appeared, seemingly out of the blue. I found a tall rock to stand on in order to get back on the horse. Now on a different trail and separated from my traveling companions, I found myself hanging on as my horse jumped over rapids and rocks, and flew like the wind. Did anyone miss me, I wondered? Will I ever see my friends again? Does anyone know how close I came to death? The Parras watched over me -- blessed people -- and guided me from a distance. Without them, I was all alone on a horse in the middle of some jungle science fiction movie.

Finally, I could see the lodge in the distance, at the tippy top of the mountain. To get there, I still had to take my horse through river rapids that normally run a foot or so deep. But with all the rain, the water was more than four feet deep, coming up to the horse's belly. Halfway across, it started raining again and within minutes I could see the water was still rising. easily to five feet, maybe more. I was in extreme danger of being washed away down river. I wasn't ready to die or leave my children and from somewhere within me, a deep well of courage opened up.

I made it to the other side with prayers and sheer force of will, where I was met by the last bit of mountain to climb. It was so steep I had to walk, holding my horse's tail, slowly moving up the incline in a nearly diagonal position. My traveling companions were gathered on a high deck, cheering me on. Was I pooped!!! But I was also proud of myself for overcoming so much ancient fear. At the same time, I was jubilant and triumphant and thrilled to still be breathing. I knew I wanted to live and that I was not finished with my earth life yet. I knew I had a lot more to share -- a LOT more after this experience -- about the unseen world. And I was deeply grateful to the Parras and the many unseen forces and friends that guided and protected me and answered my prayers.

Fear? Not any longer. My last thought as I reached the lodge and turned to enjoy the view..."How the hell am I going to get down this mountain tomorrow morning?!" All I could do was laugh.

I wasn't the only one to have wild experiences that day. One of my friends would not get on a horse, so she and her Mom took a car ride up the mountain by an alternate route. They encountered the same crazy rains and washed out pathways, resulting in the car sliding down a muddy mess of disappearing road and coming to rest on the edge of cliff. Held in place by a single tree, the car had to pulled up and out by horses and twelve strong men. They prayed a lo+t too!

Another group of friends braved the canopy run, although construction of the platforms had not been completed. Crazy people in the crazy rain...they decided to test the lines anyway, even though there was no place to stand when changing zip lines. They were held up only by their harness and a ladder as they zoomed 500 meters through the forest canopy, 520 feet high.

No one got hurt that day and I think a lot of us overcame all kinds of fears. It's fun to laugh about it now, and to share the wild stories from that trip. My brush with death taught me something about how to live without fearing life, its obstacles, challenges, storms, washed out mountain roads and even cliffs.


My humble thanks to Barbara Bowen who helped me to edit my story and to Woody Allen who said....."If you want to make God laugh, tell him your future plans"

As for me, I think I have had enough adventure for awhile!!!!