Fear of Trying

When I looked up from writing my morning pages today, I noticed Audrey, the neighbors' tortoise-shell cat, sitting on top of their tennis court fence, surveying the world. From where I sat in our house, which is downhill from theirs, she appeared to be at the same height as the eaves of the second-floor end of their house. It wasn't until I walked outside to take a picture that I saw she wasn't as high as it seemed from our windows. Still, the fence is 10-12 feet tall, and although there are vines growing all over it, it's a dangerous place for anything without wings. It scared me to see her perched so precariously.

I couldn't help but wonder why she chose to climb that tall fence, and what she saw from there. Perhaps it was her Mt. Everest. Maybe now that she has climbed to that height, she'll lose interest in repeating the experience. Is she the type of adventurer, like Reinhold Messner, who moves from challenge to challenge, or will she repeat her performance over and over, just because she can? No, she was probably just curious as to whether or not she could study her prey--the birds who frequent our feeders--better from there.

Audrey's bold climb, and her obvious satisfaction in the accomplishment, made me wonder how many times I've wanted to do something but stopped because of fear. Fear of falling, fear of failing, injury, ridicule. I"m guilty of favoring safety over risk. But what have I missed by refusing the dangerous climb? What great expanse have I not seen?