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Andrea
Mead Lawrence
". . .you can't expect people to achieve
if their spirit is not sustained."
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Mike: In your book (Lawrence and Barnaby 1980) you have a chapter titled ‘Danger and Daring.’ What did you learn about risk taking as an athlete that parallels the natural resource professional?
Andrea: It is interesting the way one lives their life by personal belief where, in kinds and degrees, danger and daring appear as true measurements of any practice. I had to understand fear as a process through which I could extend the practice of my own daring. Fear was an opening of possibility, desire, reward, and faith. It was one thing to gather the instruments of my competition and another to dare to use them. There is much to be discovered by going through the slot toward mastery. You find that slot through the practice of extending yourself.
Our limits are set by our perceptions. Growing up I never knew that dreams and acts are separate for some. In my childhood it was just a given - they were the same. I have a lot of mixed feelings about the way we teach children to compete, which in too many cases destroys spirit. Yet, the spirit is the most essential thing they have. It has to be nurtured, inspired, moved and, sometimes given a big huge hug or a kick in the pants. Because - and this is key to everything - you can’t expect people to achieve if their spirit is not sustained. In my experience with resource professionals part of that spark has been extinguished.
My sense of risk-taking is that you have to calculate what’s out there and understand that dealing with risk is a very inner process. Then you have to realize where your boundaries are and how far you can push yourself. I’m talking about my experience of competition but it is the same thing in my environmental activism. You have to understand that the mind drives the body and all our behavior, no matter what you’re doing.
You have to know yourself and your field of endeavor well enough so, at the point of launching yourself into the face of a risk, you understand what you are doing. Through understanding you give yourself permission to take the risk, acknowledging that success is in the doing, not in winning.
While you are taking a risk, it’s not foolhardy, not reckless. It’s a very deliberate putting together of the patterns, the steps, the incidents, the bits, and the pieces of the puzzle. And then, when these come together, you sense your limits. I don’t mean this in a constrained sense. At some point you feel free to just turn yourself over to it and engage with full commitment. So, you end up feeling that your journey into risk is to explore boundaries and free yourself to extend, not just win. It is a connection between your mind, your spirit, and your body. It doesn’t mean you don’t make mistakes. You do. But, at some point spirit sets you free to extend. It is a very personal journey.
An example is one of my races as a youngster, when I was 11 or 12. At that time we did not have the chance to test run a course before the race. Our only chance to scope out a strategy was by looking at the course as we climbed the hill to the starting gate. As I was climbing I realized there was one point on the run where I would have to ski over a hill without being able to see what was coming next. I knew my nature would be, as would anybody’s, to pull back a bit so I could peek over just to be sure I was safe and positioned exactly where I wanted to be. I knew I couldn’t or shouldn’t do that if speed and time were my objectives. I realized I had to be absolutely committed to skiing through that visual barrier no matter how fearful. So I made myself do it; just absolutely made myself do it. When I got to that part of the run I went over without hesitation and was exactly where I wanted to be. I was euphoric. I was yodeling and whooping and hollering. Then, as I approached the finish line, I hooked a ski and cartwheeled. I just went, tk-tk-tk-tk-tk, head-over-heels and came up with a broken ski tip; which is the first and only time I did that. So, I got up and hobbled across the finish line having no idea of my time or the race results. But I did have a vivid idea of what I accomplished for myself. I had extended and created a new boundary. I was a success in that event even though I didn’t win. In my skiing I made "assignments for the day" like that and, as a result, I had a series of learning moments.
Once experienced, extension is a moment that is very potent and it’s a quality you can re-access when you need new strengths. When you practice extension, when you put 150% of yourself into everything you do, when you begin to have some success, you build confidence. That’s a very inner quality. It’s not cocky. And when you’re a little off the mark you just know it and re-engage at your maximum level having learned a little bit from your mistake.
I’ve been asked a lot about my mistake in the in 1952 Olympics when I caught a ski tip on a gate in the first run of the slalom. I spun around and slid backwards down the hill but managed to climb back up to the gate, get back on the course, and finish fourth in the first run. People want to know, "How did you do that? How did you calculate how much it would take to overcome your mistake and beat the competition?" My answer: I didn’t do any calculations. It never even occurred to me to do any. That question is not my answer. My answer, and it is all metaphor, is that I was in this very deep, dark still area inside myself. I’d moved into that area when I got on the airplane in Zurich. It doesn’t mean I wasn’t interacting normally with people, but, for my competitive side I was somewhere very, very deep inside myself. It is a very nice, steady place. It’s a constant kind of beat. It’s a humming going on inside. Outwardly you are very calm and very quiet. You just go deep down inside to a wonderful place where things are strongly held and where you feel strong.
When I got into the starting gate for the second run I felt I was in a deep, still pool of black water. Now, that’s a very powerful image because black is all color and the deep, still pool is the gathering of all energy. Then when the count came down - five, four, three, two, one, go - I was released.
For me that meant I was able to win the second run with a margin of two seconds over the other racers and create the best combined time to win the Gold Medal. If I hadn’t spent the previous year in Europe racing and practicing extension with each new experience, I don’t know what I would have done to recover from my mistake. Everybody can experience extension in their own way.