How was your summer?

Happy Last-Pretend-To-Work-Day-of-Summer-Before-Real-Work-Life-Begins-Again-On-Tuesday!

This is the last few days to muster up the courage to make some lasting summer memories. The last chance to SEND IT, so you can have an awe-inducing answer to your coworker’s question: “OMG! Great to see you! How was your summer?!?”

As kids, this was our last chance to jump off the high dive or kiss the girl before summer camp was over. As grown-up kids, this is our last chance to relax back & enjoy the moment before adult summer camp (aka “vacation”) is over.

I learned a lot this summer. But, the most important lesson I learned was how to overcome my fear of front flips.

While on a 10-day silent meditation retreat in June, I relived an experience from my early childhood: I was at the community pool with a bunch of friends. I went for a front flip off the diving board, but I made the mistake of under-rotating. I didn’t tuck it enough and ended up smacking my back pretty dang hard. Shooting pains. I couldn’t breathe. Classic case of “got the wind knocked out of me.” At the time, as a little kid, the pain felt unbearable. I didn’t think I was ever going to get through it. I flapped in the water - screaming, crying, gasping for air. The most painful part of the whole experience was the shame that followed, as all my friends just stared at me.

So, in that very moment, when I felt like I couldn’t take it any more, I vowed to never do a front flip again. “I’m not a flipper!” I told myself, “Never again. No more. No more!”

All my life, I’ve been determined to make good on that childhood promise. About 20 years passed without another attempt. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make in order to ensure I’d never feel that pain ever again.

My friends would do backflips, gainers, and the ever-so-frightful front flip. But not me… I’d been there, smacked that (shout out Akon). Sure, I’d still jump off cliffs & bridges all summer long (shout out Kid Rock). But front flips were a no for me dog (shout out Randy Jackson).

It might sound silly, but in that retreat I had a startling realization… even though the pain on that wind-knocking-out-day was excruciating, I eventually worked through it. Here I was - 20 years later - without a shred of shrapnel still lodged in my back. (In reality, I was probably OK after about 20 minutes, but it’s easy to miss that amidst all the wailing.)

So, I had a little pep talk with my inner 8-year-old. We agreed that if I ever made it out of this prison retreat, we were going to give it another go at the good ole front flip. Even if it led to pain, I ensured Little Trent that we would, indeed, get through it together.

So, a couple weeks later, in the backyard, jumping into my childhood pool, I gave it another go…

Bad news: it was extremely painful.

The height wasn’t high enough for me to complete a full rotation. So, I, once again, smacked my back on water. I, once again, under-rotated. But this time, as the pain arose and felt like it was never going to end, I just took a moment to breathe & remind myself what I’d experienced firsthand:

This proved true after about 2 minutes. So, I was grateful I didn’t freak out. I just focused on the breath. I knew that I wasn’t physically injured. It was just pain. And pain passes.

The pain arose. The pain fell away. The pain didn’t require a reaction. The pain didn’t deserve any extra attention.

Once I remembered that pain is temporary but the glory of sticking a front flip lasts forever (shout out Paul), I felt like a superhero. I was ready for the next step - taking my talents back to South Beach the community pool.

I walked up to the diving board (as all the actual 8-year-olds looked up at me in confusion) I bounced one time… then stuck it with utter perfection!

The crowd cheered!!! (Not actually… in reality, the kids and their parents were still confused what the 28-year-old was doing here…)

But I didn’t care. I’d done it!

Childhood fear = conquered.

I realized that repeating in my head, “I’m not a flipper” was like signing myself up for the Paralympics when I was still an able-bodied athlete. For over 20 years, I limited the risks I took for fear that I’d get hurt again. Now that I’d done it, I felt liberated. My only regret was that I hadn’t done it sooner.

But, as Confucius used to say:

As modern-day Confucius (aka Trent Buenzli) now says:

Now that I had this sicko move in my cliff-jumping quiver, I became a front flip machine. I started putting on shows for onlookers, while one even took a Picture (RIP Kid Rock - you know he deserves 2 references).

Here’s a list of the places I threw a front flip:

Backyard pool at my childhood home: first attempt in 20 years was an utter failure, follow up attempts showed progress

Community pool: where the fear was created and the fear was overcome

Bend, Oregon: off a bridge at a lil bend in the river (pun very much intended)

Lake Tahoe, California: off a rock with my best buds (public redemption tour, although, turns out, they didn’t remember (or care) as much as Little Trent did…)

Seattle, Washington: a seal was watching so he (or she or they) can attest to how magnificent it was

Hudson River, NY: jumped in right off Pier 62 but didn’t flip so I guess I can’t count it (for all those concerned, I am still alive with no noticeable pollution-induced mutations… thus far)

Oslo, Norway: in a rainstorm off a dock, then a 2nd time (also in a rainstorm) in front of the Opera House

Bergen, Norway: (also in a rainstorm) in front of a retired Viking ship

28-year-old Trent is not here to brag… but my inner 8-year-old did want you to know.

As Kid Rock once said:

(This isn’t relevant to the message. I just wanted to make 1 last Kid Rock reference.)

What’s a childhood experience that caused you excruciating pain?

Can adult you overcome it by holding hands with your inner 8-year-old and just breathing through it?