“A further sign of health is that we don’t become undone by fear and trembling, but we take it as a message that it’s time to stop struggling and look directly at what’s threatening us. ”
~Pema Chodron, The Places That Scare Us

Every now and then it might actually be good for the soul to do something that scares the day lights out of you.My sense is that choosing to do a frightening thing might make it easier to deal with the experiences that come along that you have no control over, experiences that leave you shaking in your boots. Somehow when the choice is ours to tread on such ground the task becomes something powerful and has the ability to inform the other roads less taken.

Today I fulfilled a kind of bucket list wish. I climbed to the top of an amazing rock fortress that climbs out of the Atlantic just off the southwest coast of Ireland. The place is called Skellig Michael and was a fortress and place of prayer for monks from sometime between the 6th – 8th century until the 12th century. The domed stone huts shaped like beehives still sit at the top of this amazing volcanic rock. Pilgrims have traveled to this place for centuries braving wild seas and treacherous climbs. Today my husband and I were among them.

We left early along with eight others from several countries on a small fishing boat. The morning was overcast and the temperature cool. Climbing onto the boat I was stuck by the fact that, unlike what may have been a standard practice in the US to tell those on the boat about safety, we simply headed out to sea. I scoped out where I thought the life jackets might be and hoped they indeed were. The sea was mighty and the salty water sprayed us all the way out to our destination. Rolling this way and that I stood my ground though a small fear lived at the pit of my stomach.

When we arrived at Skellig Michael, we all climbed out onto the slick, rocky steps that would begin our long journey upward. The waves crashed against the boat and sent it to and fro near the rocks. Looking out in the frothing water, two seals looked back at me. I took it as a blessing and began the trek up the rock path. At first this walk was easy with stone walls and chain links giving a sense of perceived safety. But soon the stairs became uneven and curved in and out in a circuitous pattern. The wind whipped around our bodies and I dared not look down for fear of either losing my balance or not having the courage to go on. At one point I sat down and allowed the others to go ahead. I needed to get my grip. Finally I turned and crawled a few steps on my hands and knees until the wind subsided and I felt I could continue on.

Reaching the top I stood with the others in this amazing settlement of stone dwellings. Crawling inside you got the sense of what it might have been like to live here, atop this mountain of rock jutting out of the ocean. The silence enfolded you in a peaceful blanket. I received a glimpse of what it might have been like to have created a life of prayer here.

And it was prayer I needed on the way down. Several times the trajectory was too much for me and I had to sit and scoot down the steps. I thought of the wisdom of the sheep I have observed over the last days who hug the inside edge of the cliffs on which they graze and mirrored their example. My fear was held at bay by singing quietly to myself so I would not look too far ahead and would stay in the present moment. Perhaps the monks had done the same.

I am sure it will take some time before I can process the depth of this experience. But I am completely sure of the humility it engendered in me. To be in a place that so embodies the power of the earth is humbling and has the gift of putting the human in our rightful place. To come face to face with fear and to come out on the other side reminds me that in the scriptures the word for ‘fear’ and ‘awe’ are often the same.

Today I know this in my body.