"Breaking Out of My Comfort Zone"

Have you ever tried to break boards with your bare hands? I’ve heard several times that some people can, but always thought they must be really tough or somehow be able to focus all their energy into a point. However they did it, I never envisioned myself doing it, until recently. My perspective changed at a youth leadership academy for the blind last May, where I was a counselor. A few adults demonstrated a technique to the youth, and it wasn’t long until I heard of some youth even busting through 3 or 4 boards at a time. The National Federation of the Blind believes that pushing people out of their comfort zone is a very important part of training blind individuals to be more independent and successful, as it builds their confidence to try other things, thus enabling them to break through attitudinal barriers and grow personally.

As I sat there, unwilling to risk hurting my hands, I thought about what message I might be sending to the youth, for whom I was supposed to be a role model. Not wanting to show any fear of trying something new, but rather wanting to demonstrate a “can do” attitude, I stepped out of my comfort zone by stepping forward to try breaking some boards. I reviewed the technique in person, took a step back, and took a good swing at the two boards being held in front of me. To my amazement, both broke completely through, and that without hurting my hand. The youth around me thought it was great, but I fell into introspection for a while. I wondered how many other things I had never tried in my life, simply because I believed what others told me was impossible for a blind person. I’m so grateful to people who have pushed me to try new things, like my parents and my wife.
Shortly before that weekend with the blind youth, my wife Kim really pushed me out of my comfort zone, inciting me to do something I had always been afraid of. It was the last day of our two-week vacation in Peru. We had visited several museums, fascinating ruins (like Machu Picchu) and had even spent half a week in the jungle. Now, we were ready to unwind a little, before returning home. We thought that spending some time relaxing on the beach would accomplish that, but found the water to be rather chilly, the surf unusually strong and the plentiful jellyfish to be rather large – a foot or so in diameter. As we bummed around a nearby outdoor mall, Kim marveled at a number of people paragliding, sailing on the updrafts on the steep coast, suspended from large parachutes. Though it sounded like fun, it was definitely something I had always said I would never do, as it seemed foolish to put my life in the hands of something as uncertain as the wind.
Nevertheless, as we were packing up our room on the last day of our trip, Kim announced: “I know what you’re doing today”. I figured that it probably was something I really like, since she knows me quite well by now. But, when I learned that it was paragliding she was planning out, I thought she must have lost her mind. She tried to arrest my concerns by explaining that I would be accompanied by an experienced instructor; but, I didn’t gain much comfort from knowing that at least I wouldn’t be dying alone. Then my risk management logic kicked into gear in a somewhat unusual way. I figured, if the instructor is assuming this risk day in and day out, and has managed to survive it for several years, then I could possibly risk paragliding for 15 minutes. So, off we went to the coastal cliff.

When we got there and paid for my paragliding session, no one seemed too concerned about my blindness, since I’d be flying in tandem with a sighted instructor anyway. I felt excited but not that nervous; however, when they hooked the harness around me and then ordered me to run towards the cliff, I was glad I couldn’t see the 150 feet drop-off in front of me. When my feet all of a sudden lost touch with the ground, I did feel rather uneasy for the first 10 seconds of being airborne. But, as we started gaining altitude and I felt the cool ocean breeze rush by my face, my fear gave way to bliss. Though it did feel rather odd to hear the foaming ocean so far beneath me, I was enjoying the freedom of a bird too much to really care. As the instructor was taking us through gentle swoops and loops, he remarked: “If I could only give you my eyes right now”. I replied: “But why? There’s so much for me to enjoy with all my other senses”. So, he closed his eyes, and liked it so much that he kept them shut for a while. Of course, he did open his eyes again to bring us in for a safe landing. As we parted, I thanked him for a wonderful time, and he thanked me for opening his understanding to what it’s like to be blind.
As each of us stepped out of our comfort zone that day, each of our lives was enriched.Once again, my understanding of what blind people can and cannot do was altered, thus boosting my confidence to try something else that’s traditionally held to be impossible for someone who’s blind.