Ours is a long line of scaredy cats--for as long as I can remember, from as young as I can remember, there were endless admonitions. Watch out. Be careful. Don't take a chance. Danger, danger, Will Robinson!
I suppose, in part, that was because my grandparents were so central to my growing up. They were the children of immigrants, survivors of both World Wars and of the Great Depression--all of those things had to have left deep, deep scars. Then, there was the fact of Nana's fragile psyche. God knows what sorts of scars that left on the psyches of us all. Whatever tangled skein of nature, nurture, ancestral memory, and assorted life experiences gave birth to the aging woman I am today, I know that I approach all new experiences with a fear and trembling that far exceeds whatever small amount of anxiety the situation might warrant.
I suppose I should be glad that the key word in that last sentence is approach. For Nana, it was fear. How I held on to my willingness to step forward instead of freezing in place is a complete mystery. Maybe it's the other side of the family coming out, maybe it's a wild piece of DNA. I only wish there was more of it and less of the fear.
Take this trip to Germany. When your company sends you to a meeting in a country to which you have never been, it only makes sense to take advantage of the trip, right? See the country--or at least see a slice of it!
Being logical, I did just that. I stayed for three days, took trains hither and yon. Saw all the sights I could locate--phrase book in hand. Mostly, it's been fun.
The good thing about being alone is that I can gawk for as long as I like at whatever I like. Which today meant I spent about 2 hours in the Friedensmuseum in Remagen--a minor stop for most people, but a strangely captivating one for me. The short walk back to town along the fast-flowing Rhine will stay with me for a long, long time. Who knew the light green velvet of the German spring was so soft, so welcoming, and so sensual?
The bad thing is the internal hysteria, my constant companion. Miss a street sign...I'm lost on the moon and my air supply is running low. Depart from my pre-planned schedule and decide to take a later train...immediate and inescapable sense of doom. What if there are no later trains? The fact that I read the schedule 20 times and know perfectly well that the trains run all night does nothing to take the edge off the terror. Suppose the schedule has changed? Suppose it changes today? My heart rate doesn't return to normal until I am safely disembarking at the station in the town in which I am staying. No wonder I fall into bed exhausted when another day has miraculously come to a safe end!
Every once in a while, I glimpse what it's like to be unafraid, to let things happen. The idea that other people live this way is incomprehensible to me. Or it would be, if it were not for my darling husband. Among the things that drew me to him 30 long years ago next January, was his utter ignorance of the 10,000 yawning chasms that open under my feet with every other step I take. If the waiter doesn't understand your stumbling attempts at German, don't panic. A little sign language will do the trick. If you can't catch your breath on the 509 steps up to the top of the bell tower at the Kolner Dom, stop until you can. The other people can walk around you.
It's a whole different way of being.
