A Little Refrain

On a family trip, I needed to take a private plane between two airports—not like the private planes you see on TV, but the kind crop dusters use. I already didn’t like turbulence, and I couldn’t imagine liking it. My sister-in-law told me to imagine I was riding a horse. I don’t know if it was partly my love and trust for her, but it worked like an elixir. There was plenty of turbulence, sharp turns, and I was alone with a stranger—but her story was like a hug, a gentle handhold I could keep with me.

Later, I tried the same secret my sister-in-law taught me: put it into a metaphor I had experience with. In this case, the frightening bridge became the plane ride, where the metaphor of horseback riding started to allow the idea that this might be fun and sufficiently safe to get me through. Doesn’t everybody always tell you that riding in a car is less safe than flying? I wasn’t dealing with definitive facts—and of course I never am. Our senses are so limited, our free space to make choices so constrained, that the vast majority of our life isn’t chosen. The gift my sister-in-law gave me was to help expand that space of choice, the kairos. We can help each other across bridges, over creaky staircases, into safe handrails—and choose which hidey holes might be safe, and which a trap. The power of reaching out to one another, of daring to offer our opinion, of daring to show up—even when we know it can’t be certain, whatever that means—can be revealed by just such a tiny piece of advice, a little reframe, a little squeeze of the hand.

Is it safe? Who knows. Is it safe enough? Up to me—sufficiency plus timing is how I define excellence. I don’t know what will happen next. And I can’t. These reminders that our brains are only guessing can be frightening—and still, it’s the best we got. Sometimes I like it, sometimes I love it, and sometimes I’m just jumping out of a plane. We have limited control, limited ability to predict, and our safety is shaped by love and interconnection—holding hands or letting go—shaped by our life force.

After all, we are living the dream and dreaming the life. And the things we’re sure of are surely not true—except for love.

Thanks, sis.