Lynsey Dyer Invites What Is Fake To Fall Away

we all have one—a celebrity we idolize—placing them at the top of a mountain so high the summit seems unattainable to us mere mortals. 

Lynsey Dyer knows about celebrity. And mountains.

If I have a most-worshipped celebrity, it’s her. She is the proverbial poster hanging on my dorm room wall. I’m a skier too and have spent countless moments drooling over super-saturated Instagram shots of Lynsey carving a gorgeous line somewhere in Alaska, sporting a rainbow of the best gear money can buy. From the outside, she’s the girl who has it all. 

A groundbreaking professional freestyle skier, a photographer, the philanthropic co-founder of the nonprofit SheJumps, and the producer and director of Pretty Faces, one of the first all-female ski films, Lynsey is thirty-two years young.

I take a few deep breaths, feeling a lump in my throat as I dial the phone to speak with her for the first time. It occurs to me she must do interviews like this all the time. I hope she doesn’t think I am just another writer trying to pry into her personal life.

She speaks dutifully and somewhat guardedly as we work our way through the obligatory introductions. Only when I tell her I’d like to ask about her thoughts on perfection do I hear a sigh of relief leave her body. That slow exhale travels 2,000 miles to my phone and I relax too.

“I’ll be honest,” she says. “I’m actually going through a massive upheaval.”

Turns out perfection is something she struggles with, too.  

“One of the only ways I can prove that I’m providing exposure on behalf of my sponsors is to have Instagram and Facebook followers,” she explains. “It’s a tough place for me because I feel like I have to present a perfect image all the time.”

It’s a tough place for me to be because I feel like I have to present a perfect image all the time.

She has 38,000 Instagram followers. I think about the times I’ve salivated over her posts, imagining how good it must feel to showcase professional prowess and accomplishments like that. But here she is, telling me the opposite is true.

“I’m totally addicted to Instagram,” she says. “I hate that. I’m embarrassed.” 

I began to realize I’d fallen into the very trap I wanted to avoid; idolizing “Perfect Lynsey.”

Why do we do this? Why do we create unreachable, surface-level ideals, attach them to a celebrity, and then try to emulate them? This kind of perfectionism is a façade and a mirage. 

Lynsey echoes my sentiment out loud, “I’m part of the problem. I admit it and I don’t have the answer.”

As women, the worst thing we can do to one another is pretend we are perfect. It fosters separation instead of solidarity.

“The thing about us women is we’re such thinkers,” she says. “Statistically, we underestimate our abilities, while men overestimate theirs. We underestimate our own knowing, our own truth.

“We keep looking to the outside for the answer. That is what makes us weak. Social media keeps telling us, ‘The answer is out there! The answer is these sweet, new shoes! Or this magazine with 10 Ways to blah, blah, blah.’ You know what I mean?” she asks me. “But that’s all part of the distraction.” 

She opens up about her personal journey and my attitude toward her shifts from envy to empathy. Due to her recent film release and accompanying tour, Lynsey has spent a lot of time in the limelight. The world seems to be waiting on the edge of its seat, wondering what’s next for Lynsey.

“I don’t know if other women feel this way, but I had this belief that if I wasn’t doing something or creating something or having some goal, that I wasn’t worthy. I’m finally allowing myself to not have the next big thing.

“My goal is to get to a place where I don’t mind what happens on the outside as long as I am living authentically from inside. I’m inviting whatever is fake to fall away.”

My goal is to get to a place where I don’t mind what happens on the outside as long as I am living authentically from inside. I’m inviting whatever is fake to fall away. 

So much of what she said resonated with me. I told her how in 2013 I left my corporate job to buy an RV and travel the country. I told her I had never been so scared in my life, but that making those decisions simply felt right.

“That’s it. That’s one-thousand percent it,” she said. “That’s where you know you’re on the edge. It’s really uncomfortable and there are so many unknowns. But then there’s this tiny, tiny hint of magic that makes it just a little bit more exciting than fearful. That’s how you know you should go for it.”

I tell her I appreciate her being a bold and fearless woman. 

 “No! Fearless is so not part of it. If you’re fearless, there’s something wrong. The fear part is how you know you’re close to the truth. It’s how you know you’re close to something that matters. If you’re fearless, you’ve probably done it a thousand times.”

I told her about Lucia’s mission—to inspire and enlighten the world by giving voice to the heart—and asked for her thoughts on authenticity. She was silent for a moment. 

“If you want other people to speak from the heart, you need to speak from the heart. When you’re speaking from that place, it’s your truth coming out and the more authentic you are, the more you’ll be like a little light bug.”

I express my gratitude for her openness and honesty.

“I can only do that because I’m a reflection of you,” she says. “You know when people want the truth and when they don’t. They’ll just ask the fluffy questions and I have to give a fluffy answer because they’re not ready for the truth. I have to say, it’s very refreshing. This stuff wouldn’t be coming out if you weren’t willing to hear it, so thank you for being awake.”

For a moment I feel like I’ve reached the top of the mountain and instead of gazing ever upward at my idol, we are standing side by side—two women both trying to find our way in the world. I smile and tell her I hope I get to ski down the slope with her one day soon.