Backwards or forwards. It's your choice

The other day I took Penny for a walk on the twisted trails that meander through the north end of Thacher park. It’s been a bit warm and rainy in the hill towns lately so I was taking a gamble even going to this part of the park. But a quiet secluded walk in the woods was in need and this has quickly become my new favorite spot. So, I laced up my boots, bundled up, grabbed some water and out the door we went.

The first part of the trail is often a bit wet but there are little things to help you along, like rocks and some planks laid down strategically. I expected this and easily hopped from one rock to the next while ahead of me, Penny went on nose adventures and investigated every little thing that piqued her interest along the way.

Things were happily going along as expected until just after the footbridge in the woods. The trail was getting muckier in spots and under water in others. Still, it wasn’t impassable and thanks to the previous hikers who forged their own routes along the perimeter of the trail, there were some clear alternate detours.

As we continued along, the trail conditions were becoming harder and harder to navigate. I began to question whether we should keep going. Is this even enjoyable at this point? I decided against turning back and to think beyond my usual pattern of defeat, despite not knowing if the decision would amount to what I had envisioned. I opted to embrace the adventure of not knowing what laid ahead, good or bad. Forward we marched hoping for the best but knowing it was entirely possible the conditions could get worse.

The more we moved into the woods, the less sun could reach the path leaving it sometimes completely under water and/or a muddy slippery mess across the whole width of the trail. Some spots were so bad even the alternate paths created by previous hikers had succumbed to the muck. I reminded myself of my decision to keep going and to stand by it no matter what. As if on cue, I looked up to see the biggest puddle yet spanning the width of the trail with what seemed like no way around. This quagmire that was once a path, was situated at the base of a hill which was itself now essentially a mudslide. Shit.

Immediately, the hard drive that is the human brain kicked in working hard to try to calculate the best way through, over and around the obstacle I was facing. But the fact is, I couldn’t see a path. As much as my logical mind wanted there to be a visible solution, or a path already carved out like I had experienced earlier along this walk, I simply couldn’t see it. I was unable to calculate the odds of which way around would work out best in my favor. Not from where I was standing.

I was faced with two options now. 1. Do what I had been conditioned to do previously when faced with something hard. Abandon myself. Turn around and go back allowing this challenge to defeat me. That would mean trekking back through all the muck and mud that I had already fought through once, which by its very nature would not allow any new experiences, nor would it be fun. Not to mention it would rob me of the satisfaction of enjoying the view (reward) at the end of the trail. Or option 2. I could stay committed to my choice to do things differently and keep going. That would mean figuring out the path that I couldn’t actually see yet, as I went along. Feeling it out, trusting myself and my intuition knowing it may get messy, I might get hurt or worse, I could fail all together. The horror! Penny already had her answer. She would just follow me and if that meant getting muddy and wet, well then it was an extra fun walk! For me the choice took some debating. In the end, I decided to adopt Penny’s fearless mentality and said: ‘Fuck it, let’s go P’.

But let’s be real. I wasn’t going to totally follow her lead and run through this with complete reckless abandon. Though I could and that would be a new experience too. Instead, I looked for and found foot holds as I went but there wasn’t always an option. Sometimes I had to step in the thick mud and sediment that sucked my boots to the ground coating them with a layer of filth and grime. I navigated over roots poking out of puddles, vicariously placed rocks that shifted with each step and grabbed on to spindly branches for support. The finale was the climb up that mud laden hill complete with smooshed, slippery grass and thick sticky mud. Thankfully, a few rocks poking through here and there helped me get enough leverage to reach the top without falling on my face.

I emerged at the top dirty, tired and maybe a little scratched up. More importantly, I was unable to ignore that I just upped my resilience game and was filled with satisfaction and the power of knowing I did it. I didn't back down. I didn't choose the same old pattern. In fact, I chose the harder option. Even though this wasn't Mount Everest I was scaling, I still faced something difficult that I previously would have backed away from and let my monkey mind talk me out of it. I stayed here for a minute, steeping in those feelings and allowing them to sink into my subconscious. They would become weapons in my arsenal against self doubt when faced with the next difficult choice.

A new path was in front of me now, mostly drier, but not without obstacles. Thankfully I now felt more equipped to face them head on with little to no hesitation. Forward we went, courage and faith restored, excitement and curiosity reignited, to soak in the view and quiet calmness that awaited.

That's the thing about growth. It comes with risk and fear. It’s like a cruel two for one sale. But it’s unavoidable. We don’t always have a clear path laid out in front of us. Our journey will not always be illuminated and the way there can’t always be calculated step by step. There will be feats of strength and tests of faith. It will be messy and clumsy as we feel our way through it. These things will ask us to dig deep and find the courage to take the next step even when it seemingly makes no sense and we can’t possibly see how it will turn out. Sure we can attempt to mitigate this feeling by preparing (over thinking) until we feel we’ve checked all the potential outcome boxes. However, this is energy wasted when there are so many permutations of possibility.

The solution is to trust ourselves and the process of moving forward. Despite success not always being a guarantee, there is always something to gain. Lessons and experiences that wouldn't have been acquired otherwise. Lessons that will support us on our next attempt and push us further along as we level up.

Admittedly, this all sounds terrible to most people. Why the hell would I want to invite all of this in when I can just stay safe and comfortable? For me the answer was fear. Fear of failure, fear of making an ass of myself, fear of being excavated from the tribe/collective/community. Here is the bitch of it though: fear is always riding shotgun. It’s our ego trying to keep us safe and protect us from things it perceives as a threat. This is a good thing. Something to appreciate and acknowledge, but not something to make decisions by. Failure is not a death sentence. It’s an opportunity. An opportunity to see what worked and what didn’t and then move on stronger and more equipped.

Playing it safe, small, whatever you want to call it, will not produce different results when that’s been the pattern. Life will not light us up and present us with all the amazing things we’re worthy of receiving (just by being here, mind you) if we continue to make the same choices, follow the same careful, calculated, zero-risk path we’ve been on.

In order to live in that next level of our being, we have to be willing to take a risk, willing to fail over and over. We have to be willing to look fear in the eye, give it a reassuring pat on the head and then apply pressure to the gas. It’s there because we’re moving towards the next level of growth and that’s exciting.

I won’t sugar coat it. Doing this work is scary as fuck and even more uncomfortable and disorientating. But I’m motivated by knowing that I’m meant for something more. All of us are meant for something more. Something more meaningful and more in alignment with our true selves. Even if I don't know what that is yet, that’s ok. It is my intention to allow that feeling to grow and evolve despite the discomfort and without the vision of a clear path.

So if you’re scared shitless and uncomfortable that’s a good sign that you’re doing something right. Keep going.