"Chariots of Water" (not quite a Movie)

About 15 years ago I spent two weeks in the Vermont woods as a camp doctor.  My nursing staff consisted of four delightful young women from England.  When they heard that I'd never experienced the adventure that is waterskiing, they enthusiastically encouraged me to get down to the lake and try it at my first opportunity.

Three days later I was down at the waterfront and the instructors fitted me with skis and took me out in their motorboat.  They coached me on how I should position my arms and legs and what to expect when the tow rope would start pulling me.  I got in the water and waited with excitement and some trepidation as the boat pulled away.  I nervously anticipated the sudden "yanking" of the rope I was firmly gripping.  This would test my athleticism and balance:  lean back too far and I'd fall; lean too far forward and I'd fall.  In less than ten seconds,  I had tumbled over and was being dragged across the lake surface until I wisely let the rope go.  I coughed water and tried not to thrash or make a fuss as I swam in place, waiting for the boat to circle.  They came around and picked me up.  The counselors reassured me.  Told me to try again.  And I did.  Again. And again. And again.  For about forty minutes and five exhausting, frustrating attempts of my flopping around and feeling a foolish oaf.  Suddenly I realized that my limbs were lead, drained of strength, that my chance of successfully getting up on the skis was nonexistent.  I told the ski instructors that I was through for the day and the boat took me sadly back to shore.  I knew that I would never be able to do this sport...

Dispirited, I trudged back up to the woodsy medical clinic, only to be greeted by the four up-beat English nurses who laughed at my down-hearted attitude. "Don't you worry!," they chirped in chorus. "The same thing happened when we took our first spin at summer's start!  That session beat us up;  near to lyin' down on the shoreline like dead mackerels!  We were certain we'd never learn. But we went back to the boat a week later, and first try out, up we went, skimin' along the surface like we was ice-skatin'  at Christmas time! You go back next Tuesday! You'll see!"

A week passed and I was back at the lake.  This made no sense to me.  I was forty. I knew how to do what I knew how to do (biking, swimming, awkward snow skiing) but my body and mind were done with "learning to do new stuff".  There was no way that I was going to succeed "right off" today, when a week ago,  I was a pathetic half-drowned wreck!  But those pesky English "birds" were so certain.  They left me with a glimmer (but only a glimmer) of hope to give it one more ride:

I imagined that the boat counselors were not pleased to see me.  But they politely set me up again in the water, calmly motored away from me AND THE NEXT SECOND I WAS UP!  SAILING ALONG, SKIMMING THE LAKE!  Elegantly, I trailed behind as I held onto the tow line:  not too tight, not too hunched, not too stiff, knees bent just so.  I almost felt like I was dreaming!  How did it happen this time?  My legs, arms, back and head had all known what to do as the moment to ski arrived.  The boat crew cheered.  I felt like an Olympian.  We made several circles around the lake and they even let me thrill to crossing the boat's wake.  I was victorious!  They signaled me that they had to give a turn to someone else - and it was done, over.

Over the passing years I still MARVEL at what had transpired that summer:              I took a chance and attempted to learn something brand new for this forty-something year old city dweller.  I tried to master the new skill but seemed to have had NO SUCCESS on the single day I'd devoted to it.  But after a week's passing and no conscious thought or effort devoted to the activity, I had  MASTERED the skill!  I had become a proficient waterskier by NOT ENGAGING in the activity!    The only conclusion one can make is that, despite my consciously neglecting the skill (possibly BECAUSE  I "let go" in an Asian way and stopped pressuring myself), my body and mind had solved the puzzle, and, during that week of inactivity, had learned what they needed to do to be successful.  

 If it had only happened to me, I might wonder if it had been some kind of religious, miraculous experience!  But those English nurses had guaranteed that it was going to go down that way!  The same thing had happened to them.  So the real lesson is that our mind/body can still surprise us with what it can do, what WE can do, when we put our mind to it.  But it's essential that we know when to "cut ourselves some slack", because DOING JUST THAT may be exactly what's needed for the recipe of success!   And it's true for children of all ages, even forty-something ones.  

(Keep an eye out for "The Bike Riding Lesson" - A Blog coming soon to Your Neighborhood!)