I’ve just the other day returned from a profound and profoundly challenging week of hiking in Cappadoccia, an extremely mountainous region in central Turkey. Without delving into further details, it got me thinking deeply about how important— essential, even — it is that we find ways to stretch ourselves to and even sometimes beyond our perceived capacities. I will say that for some long minutes each day, the hiking itinerary did just that for (or to) me, and I had some major personal reckoning to deal with.
Through my own reflections, I came to see this life experience not as a singular and isolated challenge, but one that connects deeply with other events in my world. Pushing oneself — I call it stretching without stressing — is a healthy endeavor, and a necessary one. Given today’s political, social, religious, and environmental concerns, I’ve found that it is of paramount significance that each of us finds ways to go above and beyond in expressing our convictions. We simply cannot be cowed or give into fear: had I done so in Turkey, I would have lost out on some amazing views, vistas, and exercise. When we decide that something we care about is not worth chancing, our opportunity for growth is stunted. When it comes to standing up for (or against) an issue, we can ill afford to shut down, especially in the face of holding firm to our values and beliefs.
Many of us live by the credo that “we are — or must become — the leaders we are waiting for.” To contain or restrain ourselves from speaking out, even if there may be a price for doing so, the world is made smaller by our silence and stillness. The political and economic leaders in our world today want precisely this: give up, tune out, turn off, hide, become small or invisible. In doing so, they become decidedly bigger and more important in comparison. A wonderful book I have used during my career as a professor, Kaleel Jamison’s “The Nibble Theory and the Kernel of Power” speaks elegantly, simply, and powerfully to just this. Sometimes we nibble ourselves due to fear, lack of confidence or perceived competence, and shut down. We cannot afford smallness and silence now. In Marianne Williamson’s profound poem, “Our Deepest Fear,” she writes, “… our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us …”
We must learn, and teach, to believe in ourselves, in our power to initiate and affect change. I willed myself to chance it, somehow, to get up and down inclines of 45 degrees or more, each and every day, in Cappadocia. I did so safely, sometimes spidering or crabbing myself down on all fours, or sidestepping, or herringboning, or using my or others’ hiking poles, inching along. This was my reality, every day, for a week. But it is also my reality each and every day, when I write, speak, or teach here on safer terra firma back home. At home and elsewhere, our feelings of what and who is safe are called in question and doubt more and more as the months fly by.
Putting ourselves “out there” with actions and words is scarier now than it’s been in my lifetime. If I, or we, capitulate and give in to fear, we become complacent, and those in power get just what they want. And yet, in our lifetimes, each of us at times has stretched, has gone above and beyond what we thought we could. That is called accomplishment, achievement, growth. A new job, a new relationship, a new baby child, a new home, an award or honor, overcoming illness and injury and loss — these are the realities for the vast majority of human beings. Recall the feelings of satisfaction afterwards; we feel as though we’ve reached the proverbial mountaintop.
Moving ahead and doing so is a personal choice, ours alone to make. And yet, in Cappadoccia, I could hear (and offered) cheers of support and encouragement to “go for it,” knowing others were there to pick me or themselves or others up if and when necessary. Knowing we are not alone is a difference-maker. The old E.F. Hutton slogan, “…when E.F. Hutton talks, people listen” is not limited just to that American stock brokerage firm: it can be about each and all of us. But we must speak, we must act — and if we do, others will listen. Back to Williamson’s brilliant statement: “… as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others …”
There is nothing easy about stretching beyond our comfort zones — by definition, doing so is uncomfortable, even nerve-wracking and anxiety-provoking. It is challenging, and we take risks in doing so. The recent case concerning Jimmy Kimmels’ speaking out, and before him Stephen Colbert, indicates the risk we take in expressing our opinions. In my mind, speaking up, making good trouble, is of the essence in building and maintaining a true democracy. It is up to each of us to do so.
Find a way, find a theme or a place or an activity. Hiking in Turkey last week has enabled me to take to pushing myself above and beyond back here at home and is helping me to live a fuller and richer life. I’m not alone in this — and neither are you.
Daniel Cantor Yalowitz writes a regular column in the Recorder. A developmental and intercultural psychologist, he has facilitated change in many organizations and communities around the world. His two most recent books are “Journeying with Your Archetypes” and “Reflections on the Nature of Friendship.” Reach out to him at danielcyalowitz@gmail.com.