20 Seconds of Insane Courage

This is my favorite quote from one of my favorite movies, We Bought a Zoo. Based on a true story, Matt Damon plays Benjamin Mee, a man who loves adventure and ends up buying and transforming a run-down zoo with a cast of interesting characters. At one point in the movie, Mee is explaining to his children how whenever you think you can’t do something, “Sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage.” I can relate to that.

I had just finished treatment for breast cancer in 2003. Lumpectomy, chemo, and radiation. In a weird sort of way, it was a safety net. The treatment was there. Reliable. On a schedule. I was doing something to rid myself of cancer. When it was over, my family and friends threw me a big party, and I got to ring a bell to declare to myself and to the world that I had made it. I was done!

Then the fear started to creep in. “What if? What if it wasn’t enough? What if cancer returns, and I don’t know it?” When I woke up each morning, I would hear the voice: “What if…?” I wondered how long I would wake up like that. I had a new lease on life, and the first thought of my day was always “What if…?” With sheer determination, I would push it out of my mind and power through the day. Still, the voice was always lurking in the background. No one told me about this part of post-cancer life. I did some research and discovered that this was “normal” and that over time, things would likely get better. But how long would that take? I didn’t like the idea that this fearful voice was eating away at my peace of mind and that I seemed to have no real influence over it. 

I started doing yoga, and for the first time, I could feel energy moving in my body, like a little electric current. It felt good. The meditations that we ended class with felt good, too. I was slowly retraining my fight or flight brain to settle down, and I began to hear the faint notes of a different voice. I didn’t have to allow my survival emotions to run my life. I still felt fear, but not quite as as often. 

Then one day, through someone at the yoga studio, I heard about a local man who held firewalks and that there was going to be one that weekend. It intrigued me. How did people do that? Wasn’t walking on fire something circus performers did? A couple of the people at the studio told me they had done it. They invited me to join them. They made it clear that I was under no obligation to walk, but I was welcome to come and see what it was all about. They mentioned that it was useful for overcoming fear. That got my attention.

A couple of days later, I found myself in a living room, sitting in a circle with about twenty people as the fire master spoke about how to walk on fire without getting burned. Some had walked on fire before, a few, like me, had not. We went around the circle, each person explaining why they were there, why they wanted to walk on fire. We talked about raising our energy, which actually meant something tangible to me after my experience in yoga class. 

We talked about the importance of setting an intent for a “cold fire” and seeing ourselves walking across it, and to really imagine how we would feel once we reached the other side successfully. The instructions were to walk quickly and not pause or stop until we were across. We were told to look for a good path through the coals and to step out when we felt ready. The fire master explained that if we didn’t feel called to walk, we shouldn’t, but that it was usually best to make that decision when we were standing in the circle around the fire. 

I really didn’t know if I was going to do it (in fact, I was thinking I probably wouldn’t), but I decided that at the very least, I wanted to see how other people did it. I had come this far, so why not? The host had a large piece of property, and we walked outside to see where a bonfire had been burning for quite some time. The coals inside were red hot and ready to be removed and raked out into a circle. Wood actually isn’t the greatest heat conductor, which is what makes fire walking possible. Still, those coals were over 1,000 degrees. Things were getting real. We stood together and said some prayers, setting our intentions for the walk. We sang, and I could feel the energy from the group begin to lift me. I breathed deep with the hope that their energy might help carry me across the coals. The fire tenders raked the coals into a circle while we gathered around it. I felt butterflies begin to flutter in my chest and redirected myself to focus on seeing myself walk successfully across the fire and how elated I would feel when I reached the other side. 

And then…the voice. “What if?” “What if I burned myself and had to endure the criticism of my family for doing something so foolish?” I stood there, fighting back the butterflies, wondering if I could really pull this off. The first walker stepped out and onto the coals, walking quickly to the other side. Shouts of celebration, echoed by the others in the circle. Then another walker, and another, and another. I waited. I watched. Then I remembered my why. The voice. I’m so tired of it. It’s sucking the life out of me even though I got my life back. As with most things worth trying, the first step is the hardest. I could feel and see myself walking successfully across the coals. What I couldn’t do was see myself taking the first step. I almost did it several times, but pulled back, frustrated. “Damn fear.” 

I reminded myself, “Watch for a good path through the coals. See it.” This would just require 20 seconds of insane courage. 

Then, the person standing next to me asked if it would help to have someone walk across the fire with me. Those were the words I needed to hear. I made my decision. We clasped hands and walked out onto the glowing coals, and before I knew it, we were on the other side, celebrating. And yes, my feet were fine. Empowered with that success, I faced the fire, took a deep breath, and took off across the coals on my own. It was a feeling that is hard to describe, but the t-shirt would read, “I am the master of my state.” That moment changed me. I looked back into the circle of coals to see that there were now experienced walkers actually standing on the coals in the middle of the circle, standing there as long as they liked without getting burned.

I went back for one other firewalk at which I did get a small blister on the ball of one foot. Out of curiosity, I looked up a reflexology chart afterward and noticed that the spot where the blister occurred corresponded exactly to an area of my body that had been having an issue. A weak spot. Interesting. That was the last time I fire walked. I haven’t felt the need to since. I challenged the voice of fear, and it has never again been as strong. Recently, after 18 cancer-free years, my annual mammogram showed a small spot that turned out to have some cancer cells within the duct, close to the old spot. No tumor, but a mastectomy was necessary. Right in the middle of a pandemic. I had to wait two and a half months for the surgery. I decided to use my meditation practice to set and feel a clear intention that all would be well. It was. In fact, the whole experience couldn’t have gone more smoothly. There were moments of fear, but it didn’t have the upper hand anymore. It’s a companion on my life journey that means well, but I don’t allow it into the driver’s seat.

Thinking back on that firewalk, I also learned the importance of helping each other to take the first step. It’s what got me across the fire and gave me the confidence to do it on my own. The encouragement and presence of the other walkers in the circle played a big role. The power of community. We all helped each other to do what many would see as the impossible. Now that’s a metaphor I can carry with me into the world. As the great Nelson Mandela said, “It always seems impossible until it is done.” 

PS. Get that annual mammogram. Early detection is key. I will be forever grateful to Dr. Dixie Melillo and the staff at The Rose here in Houston for their expertise and compassion in walking across the fire with me in such challenging times.