The other day we hiked to a place called the Devil’s Bathtub, in the Black Hills National Forest in South Dakota. As usual, We knew that the hike included crossing a stream, so we were prepared with our hiking boots, which are waterproof.
As the hike went on, the crossings became more and more complicated.
What started as a little hop, skip, and jump across a few rocks became longer processes of deciding which path to take across the rushing waters. Sometimes there were fallen trees to climb past, or large smooth rocks that proved slippery. There was a family just ahead of us, so some of what we did was watch them to see what worked and what didn’t, and adjusted our course accordingly.
On more than a few occasions I slipped off a rock or it wobbled just enough to test my balance, causing me to re-evaluate which path to take. If I looked too far ahead, I couldn’t fully consider each step. But, if I only kept my head down, I wouldn’t be able to see where I was ultimately headed. There needed to be a balance between the two - intentionally taking each step but also knowing the direction and path.
It became a lesson in deciding the next step or two, but not getting ahead of myself. And, when the waters were shallow I had to remind myself that I could actually walk right through because my feet wouldn’t get wet. My boots are waterproof. Sometimes what I needed to do was just charge forward through the stream instead of tip-toeing across.
The hike was lovely, the day was beautiful, and the sun was shining. It was a good day.
As a natural born planner, I like to know what comes next. I think most of us do.
There is a comfort in knowing what the path is and how we will get to where we are going. And, it can be reassuring to have someone to whom we can turn to ask directions when we get lost of lose our way. Sometimes we can take clues from the path they’ve chosen - what worked and what didn’t work, for them.
But, at the end of the day we have to decide where to step and which path to take, even if we aren’t sure of our final destination. In the end, we place our feet on the path and have to deal with whatever comes next.
It’s like when I was crossing the waters.
Sometimes I could follow the steps that Susan had taken, and other times those didn’t work for me. Either my foot placement was off, or they were slippery, or my balance just wouldn’t cooperate with that route.
I’d have to pause, re-evaluate, and assess which way to go.
And so, more often than not, I had to make my own path - trusting my body’s balance and center of gravity, and ability to climb and descend.
Ultimately we made it to the Devil’s Bathtub, and then made our way back to the truck, crossing again over the same waters we’d already traversed. And while the end result was lovely, it was really more about the journey we took.
On that hike I learned that I have pretty good judgment.
I learned that I can balance better than I would have guessed.
I learned to trust my instincts, and sometimes to trust the momentum that was pushing me forward.
When I slipped I learned that I could steady myself again, and when I just walked right through the water, I was reminded that sometimes we need to remember our own power. There is a time for tip-toeing and there is a time for splashing our way forward.
Isn’t life like that sometimes?
When I decided to leave my job and embark on this year of discovery, I wasn’t sure what the end goal was.
To be honest, I’m still not sure what the end goal is.
I knew that something needed to change and that I needed to create space to listen deeply to my own knowing. I knew that there are people I admire whose footsteps I can follow, and there are also people I admire whose journey is nothing like mine. Ultimately, it’s my own path forward, even if I’m uncertain about the ultimate destination.
Most of my energy is being spent on feeling content with the unknowing and paying attention to what feels right and good, and what doesn’t. What feels slippery or off balance? What momentum is pushing me in a direction that feels good? What feels not so good? What brings me joy, and what destroys my energy?
At first, I spent a lot of time watching marathons of tv shows - home organizing (another post about that later), crime shows, and dance and cheerleading shows (my favorite indulgence). I would spend hours watching tv and scrolling through social media. After all, I didn’t have anything I HAD to do - I had no restrictions on my time, no appointments or meetings. I could do whatever I wanted. How exciting!
But soon I realized that this was slippery for me - tuning out the world and drowning out my own voice by focusing on others. I felt off balance. I realized that tuning out meant that I was also tuning out of my own sense of self.
I needed to reconnect.
Movement, sport, and fitness have always been an important way I learn and come to understand the world. I have played sports my whole life, and believe that an embodied life is the only way for me. Maybe this is why I can write a whole blog post about what I learned about myself while slipping off of rocks! This is also why sitting around wasn’t helping me connect with myself and my place in the world.
But, in all seriousness, I am glad to be tuning in again - moving my body and paying attention to how that feels. I’m embracing the surprises I have found in this process, and am hopeful about continuing to learn what I can.
I still have no idea what the end goal is, and that feels okay.
For now, I’m going to focus on the next right step and trust that I will find my way. In the end, that’s all any of us can do.
This week’s Invitation to Deepening: What is throwing you off balance these days? How can you go about finding your sense of balance again?
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