Two weeks ago, I told a story about burning some bridges and heading into the unknown...
Bravery... it's a funny thing isn't it?
Sometimes we are braver than we ever thought possible, more often than not because we find ourselves where the choices to be anything else are limited.
This is the Capra peak (the "goat") in Romania
A few weeks ago, my friend Adela (local guide extraordinaire who've I've known since my first journey into magical Transylvania 7 years ago and the one looking fab in the picture above) invited me to join her and a bunch of strangers on a proper hike in the Fagaras mountains.
I was told it would be a medium-level hike, we would start at Balea lake at the top of the famous road Transfagarasan.
We set out, on a beautiful Sunday morning, from the charming cobblestoned streets of medieval Sibiu to the rocky impressive Fagaras mountains.
It was a beautiful day. The landscape breathtaking at every turn, and my body adapted way quicker than I ever anticipated to walking steep hillsides and navigate rocky footpaths.
I was feeling preeetty good about myself I tell you.
And then.
Capra came.
You know when you find yourself in a situation and your first impulse is to ask the people who got you there "WHY DIDN'T YOU WARN ME?".
Then afterwards, you think, THANK GOD they didn't.
See, up towards the Capra peak, there was this pathway, about as wide as me (so in theory, perfect for walking, no tight-rope balancing skills necessary).
But then, on each side of this path, was... nothing.
On the right, a sharp cliffside.
On the left, oh another one.
On both, nothing but a spectacular view.
Since the path was going in up, I followed my instincts and went down on all fours, not so much climbing as trying to slide up the mountain.
My fear grew to the point where it in itself was the problem. I started to shake.
With reassuring words from the ones in front of me, I somehow made it up to the peak. Where I held on to my friend, who sat me down so I could find my breath and calm my nerves.
As I sat down, I looked towards the next part of our journey. My eyes widened in disbelief.
It looked WAY WORSE than where I'd come from. Basically like a razor sharp thin ledge made of craggy rocks that I would have to balance, without plummeting to my death below.
The road ahead looked horrible, treacherous and impossible. I mean it, Impossible.
But there was no way in HELL I'd go back the way I came (and it wasn't an option either, I couldn't leave the group, and it would have been like a 2 hour hike back)
So I sat on that mountain, waiting for the rest of the group to come up, and wondered - is there any way for me to just stay here? I couldn't see how I would be able to go ahead but there was no way back either.
Yes it might be simplified and too poetic to stomach, but taking a metaphorical leap of faith in your life is very similar.
We have a vague idea of the destination. But no clue how to get there. And the road looks bleak, difficult and full of risk.
My acting coach always says "successful people ask for help".
I did that on the mountain. I told our professional guide that I was shaking out of fear, and with his assuring cooing and nudging I made it out on that horrible looking ridge.
Turns out, it wasn't as difficult as it looked from afar.
Coming closer to the ridge, there was a dirt pathway between the rocks - no balancing required. I couldn't see that until I started walking.
I think about this now, from time to time, whenever I feel doubt creep in, asking "so, how are you going to make this acting/singing/writing/dream thing work?"
I remember that the only way to get to the top of the mountain is to start walking.