Don't take offense, but you'll obviously have to read on to understand why I claim that.
This first 4 days of April, I got to experience an outdoor learning adventure that was initially uneventful and frustrating (but never bordered on insanity like OBS did). This was a recruitment drive hosted by Focus Adventures in Sentosa, located on Tanjong Beach where you can't miss the iconic hourglass-shaped 40m high element course. They specialise in corporate bonding and teambuilding events for MNCs, ranging from 10 directors to 400 office workers.
After 2 dreary days of indoor games, where we then tear apart each activity we play and analyse in-depth how each game relates to organisational management or communication, we finally got to kayak about 6km to and from Pulau Ubin in rainy weather. I paired with a plus-sized lady as I figured she might have more pedal power to get us through the expedition. We both had 1-star certification, but mine was a cert for solo kayaking while she had trained in tandem. I'd dismissed her instruction to pedal in sync as I thought alternate pedaling would be more efficient, but she kept to it so I tried to pace for us. As long as we were moving forward, I had no complaints. I spent the ride distracting us by reaching for ocean trash that drifted in our path... we lagged behind the group a bit but I'm proud of our collection. The small short breaks also helped to break the monotony of the journey.
I mention this lady, named Lynn, because she is crucial to the moral of the story.
After 2 sleepless nights in the air-con room and 3 days of being over-socialised (there was more talking than I expected), the facilitators kindly revealed they would let us climb the high elements to end the camp. They'd kept the programme from us, but as with outdoor activities, everything was uncertain and subject to weather, so there was only so much planning that could be done. From the ground, the high elements course did not look intimidating. We went through the safety briefing, harnessed up and practised moving through the hooking systems. Then we had to blindfold the person who was most afraid of heights for the first 4 elements (or first circuit).
It seemed counter-intuitive to have the one most afraid not know what to do or where to go. But of the 3 in our group, the lean Sea-Ops manager claimed she wouldn't do well on heights so she was the 1st volunteer, albeit unwillingly. The larger lady, Lynn, led her in front while I supported from the back, putting her foot on the next ladder rung or showing the height of the next step of the platform by touching her calf or explaining roughly how wide to step out. We were only 4m up on the first circuit so we didn't think much about the elements, which were quite fixed anyway, but gave all our attention to instructing the blind person.
Arriving at the first cage signalled the end of that circuit, and we congratulated the blind manager for being courageous. But a swap of the blindfolded person to the heavyset Lynn meant an increased level of cortisol. While we were not on a time crunch, my pessimism began to sink in and I wondered if we would make it to the top. Again I chose not to lead this time, knowing that if I went first, I might overanalyse things and stress myself and everyone out (I was there to relax and enjoy myself instead of taking care of others and being responsible for a change). Also I didn't want to bring everyone down with my negativity and frustration. So I supported from the back, thinking I'd have to carry Lynn quite a bit through if she were not confident as well.
But the rules of the game changed again the moment we stepped off the cage - at the first element of this 2nd circuit, we had to walk a straight fixed metal pole a diameter about 30cm, all without holding onto our harness lines. (Everything is easier when you hang onto your fixed line, such that you can fly through the course without learning to balance on anything.) I swear the head instructor purposely made it so our lives were a little more exciting than it should be. I let go of my line and tried to balance, turning sideways so I could shuffle along slowly, and try to catch up to Lynn who was a couple of steps ahead on the pole already with the manager holding her hand and me gripping her harness to ground myself. The instructor said we all had to face outward (I guess it was a safety measure in case I fell), but as I pivoted 180-degrees, I looked out at the expanse of nothingness before me and reeled a little. I leaned a little too far forward, flailed my arms to steady myself and willed my feet to stop shaking. In that movement, I thought I might have shoved Lynn right off the pole instead, sacrificing her to ensure my own footing. But thank God she remained a rock. I was breaking out in cold sweat at the close call. (One instructor came to my rescue and held my hand along, but I was so embarrassed that he caught that flounder.)
I held onto her now with both arms, and she asked if I was ok. She affirmed that she felt like she was on terra firma and simply needed to walk straight, which she achieved with relative ease. Meanwhile I was gripping her vest and both of us were still trying to tell her what to do, but because we had to look down and explain the elements to her, it was making us hyper-aware of high how we were now. I must have tugged against her a number of times as I was afraid of slipping, that the instructor told me to let go of her vest and hold her hand instead. We were all standing on a swinging element of some sort, so I released her straps, shook a little and immediately gripped them again. I ended up grasping her shoulders but they were too wide to have any proper grip on. If I fell, at least I wouldn't bring her with me.
Lynn made the rest of the elements slowly and steadily, but it was us who were shaking harder than she was while she told us to calm down. I figured she was onto something, that despite her size, being blind was a superpower. She remained strangely calm until we found reprieve on the cage, assuring us there was nothing to be afraid of. I questioned her and she was sure that being blind made you fearless. So I happily volunteered myself to be blindfolded the next circuit. Only this time, it had to be 2 out of 3 of us who were blindfolded, said the instructor. There was no quarrel, Lynn and I were going into zen mode... I left the Sea-Ops manager to stress herself out.
And stress out she did. The first element was a rock wall with multiple easy handholds and 3-4 steps to take (I can't remember, I was blind), so it was immovable and therefore not scary. While she fussed and contemplated every rock, I monkeyed throughout. We had enough time to chat about the upsides of being blind, and how it dulled down your danger sense. I talked to Lynn about meeting blind singer Chen Wei Lian once at Ngee Ann Poly's "Dialogue in the Dark" for a corporate event, and when asked how he manoeuvred around while travelling and touring, he blatantly said he used his walking stick. But he generally didn't care about dangers as most countries he went to were safe and had good infrastructure. So usually when he crossed the highway outside NP to get to the bus stop opposite, he'd just listen till there were no cars before dashing across... and 1 time he grabbed his other unsighted friend along with him too. That's how to live life, and you can't be afraid all the time, he shared.
At some point being at the back was a disadvantage as I was left to my devices while the manager assisted Lynn on the tougher course (her words becoming less and less concise as we went, probably from the overthinking), I inched my way forward hanging on my line and sweeping for handholds with my other arm. On some of the studier elements, I intentionally shook them a little by bouncing up and down on the line or bridge... Lynn remained unfazed while the manager freaked out. I must have been too lackadaisical that the supervising instructor gave in and pulled my arm up to a pole and interval platform. I then tried to be helpful with the hook system when the manager got stuck with it at some point, I nearly pulled Lynn off the platform while yanking her chain through a notch. The manager chided me and the head instructor told me to just hang onto the pole as I was teetering off the platform (I wouldn't know that).
With much ado, we made it to the final cage and final circuit. The manager was breathless, her motherly instincts in overdrive. But now that the blindfolds were off, the fear of suddenly being 30m up with the sea breeze in full force hit me in the gut again. The elements once more had to be done without holding our safety line, so we all had to rely on each other's stability and low CG, and move in sync through the last circuit. I tarried a few times and literally held Lynn back - by now she was my immovable rock, because her weight kept us and the elements steady... it did also mean that when she lifted her foot off, we would start swaying. Through teamwork, we found creative workarounds for each element, and safely made our way to the top.
Reaching the destination was blah. However the journey of having intense fear give way to a positive, almost sedative and drunken stupor that was found in blindness was a totally mind-blowing lesson I'd never realised before. I have to admit: Daredevil hit the nail on the head.
Aside from being relieved of my sense of danger, I realised that sometimes the toughest things can be achieved even when we go into it blind. When God calls you to do something out of your comfort zone or beyond your ability, it is possible to achieve it still as long as you obey and commit to it. Because with Someone leading, the onus is on Him to lead you well, communicate and tell you where to go or what to do. And God will do just that, if we let Him that is. I am more than likely to hesitate as a sighted person than blind, because I see EVERYTHING, and the situations surrounding the elements make it tougher than it should be - ie. the height is what causes fear. If I had been blind to the height and taken the course as stable ground, not considering the circumstances and listening out for exact feet placement from the leader, I would take the step of faith more readily with Him holding my hand, rather than shakily moving off into unstable stress-inducing paths.
It shows that knowledge is not necessarily power. It simply makes us more aware of our options and situations and hence become wary. We become too tangled up in the challenge of the terrain and are held back by our feelings that we cannot take the next step, all because we don't trust God enough to lead us well on the path He created for us. We see other supposedly safer or more secure paths and abandon the one God laid out for us in pursuit of what we think is better... just because we think we know. And the world has many other options more enticing than what God offers. Our lack of blindness but overanalyses costs us the joy of resting fully in God and letting Him just lead where we should tread.
I can safely conclude it is much less stressful to be blind to the difficulties of my road ahead. I can instead learn to let go and let God. He never promised a bed of roses, but He did promise
the adventure of high elements of life and the anxiety that comes with His Great Commission. It is not a cake walk, but a blind tight-rope walk, and I'm gonna ace it by being in a state of utmost peace.
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