What’s Your Chainsaw?

[Facing Fear – V]

I remember cutting down old oak trees as a child. My dad would fell them and chop them up with his old Stihl chainsaw while we pulled the limbs to a large burn pile. Over and over again, he would tell us how dangerous the chainsaw was. So many things could go wrong, and one mistake could change the course of our life.

I developed a fear of chainsaws, though I never saw a bad accident. I never even witnessed a “close call”. But the images in my head were gruesome. Still, to this day, every time I hear the buzz of a chainsaw, those images flash through my head. (Even writing that last sentence triggered a picture of R-rated material.)

And then I moved to property that needed the forest thinned. I got to work, and over a hundred trees later, I can use a chainsaw safely and without hesitation.

The images are still there. The memories of dad are still there. Where did the fear go? All the ingredients of the fear are present in my mind, but my body is free from the grip of anxiety.

So much fear lives in our bodies. In the memory of our muscles. I the history of our joints and bones.

I started with small limbs. Success. Then larger limbs and small trees. Success. Eventually I could cut down massive pines without a flinch. How?

Part of the fear I had of chainsaws resided in my physical body. I needed a physiological solution. I literally needed to “re-narrate” the stories that lived in my muscles and bones. (It took over a hundred trees!)

Every time I think about using a chainsaw I still picture an accident, but my body has enough “wins” that my fear has become more of a precaution than a controlling anxiety.

What’s your chainsaw?
How can you start small and “re-narrate” your body?