The Most Out on the Edge Thing I've Ever Done. To Date.

 
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I figured I might as well start this blog off by telling you about the most out there thing I've ever done.  First let me say that I've spent the last year chasing woo-woo things, out there things, and pretty much wackadoodle things.  Because I've spent fifty-something years thinking I knew all about that stuff (translation: turning my nose up at all those crazy people), I've intentionally pushed myself further and further out on the edge.
 

I've listened to and/or read everything from Jen Sincero to Pam Grout to Wallace Waddles to Abraham.  The stranger it sounds, the more I want to consume it.  I've learned about chanting, taken a crystal bath and experienced a sound table with a Reiki practitioner.  I've had my cards read, my palm read, my psyche read by a wildly talented clairaudient. Every single one of these experiences cracked me open just a little bit more to the idea that, well, I don't know everything.
 

And that is such a RELIEF!  All of my life, I thought that I had to have it all figured out. How everything worked. How to make everything happen.  In short, I thought that if I didn't control it, it wasn't worth knowing about. That was incredibly exhausting.
 

Now that I've discovered this whole world of things that I will never understand but have total faith in, I'll try just about anything at least once. Which brings me to my story of the most out on the edge thing I've ever done. To date. :-)
 

I attended a workshop led by one of my favorite authors, Edwene Gaines.  On the very first night, we were reviewing the weekend's agenda and she got to the part where she said "and on Sunday night, we will conclude with a fire walk." A fire walk? Somehow I'd missed that in the workshop description.  Then she said "you don't have to do it and you'll know that night if it is for you to do."
 

The really interesting thing about that is, once I heard her say it, my immediate gut response wasn't a freaked out what-the-hell.  My instant, knee jerk reaction to the news that I would have the chance to walk, barefooted, over a hot bed of coals was "Hell Yes! I'm going to do that! In fact, I'll need a very strong reason NOT to do it." Even I was shocked.
 

As the weekend progressed, I kept waiting for my better reason to take over and caution me against this crazy as shit activity. It never happened. Instead, the closer we got to Sunday night, the more it felt like Christmas was coming. Seriously. I was absolutely giddy with excitement.  "Surely I'll back out at the last minute", I kept thinking. The little kid in me wasn't about to back out.
 

Sunday evening arrived and I found myself walking around that fire with my fellow participants, waiting for the signal that we could walk if we wished to.  When that signal came, I rushed to get in line, never taking my eyes of that long bed of hot coals.  My turn came and instead of chickening out or freaking out, I launched myself onto the fire. 
 

I don't know what I thought it would actually feel like. Looking back I can tell you that  it felt like walking on powdery sand at the beach at night when it has cooled down after baking in the sun. I remember that part. I remember seeing the glowing embers ahead of me. And I remember the faces of those reaching out to me at then end to help me step into a container of water. 
 

When I finished my first walk, something clicked inside of me that I can only compare to the first time a I rode the Scream Machine at Six Flags and discovered that I couldn't get enough of roller coasters.  I got in line again. And again. And again. By the time I made my fifth walk, I laughed all the way across. On my twelfth walk, everyone else was laughing with me. I was like a kid at the carnival.  
 

When it was all over and we were de-briefing about it, one of the helpers said "Sarah, I'd help you off and suddenly there you were again. It was like you were be teleported or something.  And your eyes just got happier and happier."  Even as I'm writing about it now, I have a huge smile on my face because walking on fire brought me such joy.
 

See? I told you it was wackadoodle. If you're still with me and don't think I've gone completely over the edge, I'm just thrilled.  This is stuff I live for now and I want to share as much of it with you as I can here at The Hell Yes!  You don't have to fire walk. Or even want to fire walk.  It will help if you are willing to reach out just a bit beyond your comfort zone and consider that everything isn't exactly the way you think it is. That's what we will be doing here, together.
 

Welcome to The Hell Yes!

 

 
 
Sarah Robinson