PERCEPTIONS: Snowboarding

Whoever designed the snowboard was a sadist. Learning to ski is a challenge, but at least skis only move forward and backward and you get poles to use for crutches. Snowboards slide in every direction and all you get is your arms to whirl around like propellers.

The most terrifying moment for me is getting off the chair lift. As the chair reaches the top of the mountain, you have to stand up at exactly the right moment and slide down a little mound. The first time I attempted it, I did as I was told and managed to stay on my feet. “Look forward!” the operator said. Forward I looked, and forward I went.

But after this initial triumph, things got ugly. Rather than looking forward, I began to look down at the source of my insecurity – the snowboard. It never worked. Our instructor had a motto that he repeated like a mantra: “Look down, fall down.”

I began to pity the poor innocents who got stuck in the same chair with me. I warned them that there was nearly a 100 percent chance that I would wipe them out when we dismounted. They laughed.

As we drew near the top of the lift, my muscles would tense. Reaching the critical moment, I would rise from the chair, be overcome with fear, look down, and wind up in a heap with my chairmates, who were no longer laughing.

It psyched me out every time. I knew what I had to do. Stay confident. Look forward. Why was it so hard? Our instructor had a theory which he shared with my son. “I think your dad has brain farts.”

“Look down, fall down.” The principle applies in all of life. If I worry about looking foolish I certainly will. If I pour all of my energy into avoiding some temptation, I surrender to it. If I look in the mirror and see nothing but fat, then what I see is what I get. “Look down, fall down.”

On the other hand, when I look with confidence at where I want to go, it’s like magic: I go there. I’m trying to learn to focus on where I want to go instead of where I’m afraid I’ll go.