One hundred and one steps
Le Rocher de la Vierge - Biarritz, France - 2022
I was recently in Biarritz, France working remotely and spending time with family. I'm the oldest of 11 cousins and they're all grown up. It's amazing to reconnect as adults and share more about our life choices, dreams, and goals.
I stayed at an Airbnb in Biarritz very close to an old landmark, 'Le Rocher de la Vierge'. This landmark has been on my mind since childhood. It's a statue of the Virgin Mary built atop an outcrop of stone in 1867. The story goes that on a dark and stormy night, a whaling ship was trying to return to shore, but was struggling to navigate safely due to the darkness. The coastline here is incredibly rocky and dangerous and sailors aboard the ship thought they were headed for death. Suddenly, a miraculous bright light appeared showing them a safe path home to port and they navigated to safety. In thanks for their safe return, they erected this statue as a show of their gratitude and faith.
My story starts much later. The stone outcrop is accessible via a 75-meter-long narrow wooden and steel bridge. Since childhood, I've always been afraid of heights and never dared cross that bridge. I would regularly go by that landmark when my grandmother took us to the beach in the summer. I was curious about what it would be like to walk over there but never dared to cross that bridge. Friends would urge me to go with them, but I steadfastly refused. The bridge was too long, the crashing waves beneath were too frightening. I imagined the ocean would swallow me whole.
Bridge to the Rocher
During this recent visit to Biarritz, I decided to challenge this story. How long would I let an old, irrational fear stop me? On my early morning walk, I passed by the statue and decided it was time to try the bridge. I grabbed the handrail, focused on the endpoint, and started stepping forward, counting my steps. One, two, three….
My lizard brain shifted into panic mode: "it's so high... the waves are loud... this is too scary... run back...! "
I continued counting my steps with my prefrontal cortex: "twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five…" and thought: "I'm 25% there, keep stepping. Breathe in, breathe out."
My lizard brain continued its refrain: 'Turn back, you're going to fall, it's too dangerous!'
"Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three….breathe in, breathe out."
The cacophony in my brain drowned out the sound of the waves while I continued to focus on the statue and took one step at a time. I was determined to make it across that bridge. Two minutes later (which seemed an eternity!), I had made it to the end: 101 steps. The bridge didn't collapse, no one drowned, and I arrived safely. One hundred and one steps, that's all it was.
On the other side!
I took a few minutes to appreciate this accomplishment. I faced a 61-year-old fear, one that I had carefully nurtured every time I passed by the Rocher de la Vierge. It was a story I had been telling myself forever, which was untrue. Over the next several days, I repeated this walk, to remind myself that not all of my beliefs are true and to become accustomed to this new comfort zone. In the process, I saw some incredible sights.
Sunrise over Biarritz - 2022
Looking back on this experience, I wondered: what other fears do I actively nurture to keep me 'safe'? What is safety? What stories am I collecting that keep me stuck in old, familiar patterns? What imagined dangers have I created that no longer serve me? It's natural to have a library of stories in our minds collected after years of experience. We reach conclusions and gather learnings as we experience life. But sometimes, stories can be skewed. The limbic/lizard brain's job is to identify possible dangers and to magnify them so that we take as few risks as possible: "Stay safe! Don't try anything new or different! There's possible danger there!"
But as the saying goes, a ship was built to go out to sea. You can keep it in the harbor, with 100% safety, but then it's not doing what it was meant to do. Only when it goes out to sea can it contribute to the world.
This experience has inspired me to continue to grow my comfort zone. I'm thankful to be working with my coach as we explore ways to take 101 steps in new directions. What might be possible then?
Cynthia