A Better Way To Go

I ran in the woods this week for the first time in two months. I've been waiting for the snow that has been so solidly packed down into ice on the trails to melt. There were still white, icy stretches that interrupted the flow of my pace (you know on a summer day when the ice in your drink mostly melts, but there are still pieces floating that just won't give in...it's like that), but it was good to be in the woods again, which feel like my second home. We should all have a place like that. Somewhere familiar we go which, by its sheer nature, gives us space untainted by anything or anyone (and yes, it's usually not our childhood home). A neutral place that holds no judgment, where we can bring any feeling or thought and just be.

On this day, I came upon a stretch of trail that looked slippery for too long, so I veered up a more rugged side trail, thinking I'd catch up with the main trail in a very short while, but I found myself confused when that trail intersected with another wide trail, which wasn't the one I was familiar with. I quickly understood that I was heading on a new path and rather than turn around, I decided to keep going, that maybe this was, unknowingly, the better way to go this day.   

It went uphill for a long ways and eventually I saw ahead of me a man walking on paved ground. I knew instantly that I had arrived at a part of the reservation two towns over where there is a loop of paved road. I was delighted. I finished on the easy paved loop after having made a mental note of where the trail was that I should get back on to head home. What I didn't realize was that there was a fork in the path. I didn't know which way I had come. I made a guess and after some seconds, I didn't recall certain trees down or stumps or ice and so I went back to the fork and tried the other way. After 30 seconds that way, I also didn't recognize the landscape. I really had no idea which way I had come.

I was even more delighted that this didn't bother me. I didn't know which way to go and it was fine. Why in this instance of not knowing was I okay and in other circumstances of not knowing in my life do I tremble? The path is going to lead somewhere, no matter what. There is comfort in that. It is not as though I took off  into some vast and strange forest somewhere, unfamiliar with the landmarks and without a map. In my life that is also the case. I might not know where a path is leading, but I know enough of what is around me to be safe. If I could remember to rest in that knowledge, I can enjoy the path and not miss it in my fear that there is a better way to go.

It sounds nice, but how do we really do that in the moment of having to make a decision or change? If I think back to that moment at the fork, I'd say that unconsciously there was trust, fearlessness, surrender and playfulness. I trusted myself to find my way if I got lost. That I could, in fact, handle it. I trusted the universe to bring me somewhere or to something I might need to know, learn or experience. In trusting, fear dropped away. Isn't that true? When we trust in something, fear has no weight. Surrender, which I equate with acceptance, is a willingness to be in the experience. There was no use resisting the fact that I didn't know which way would lead me home. I had to pick a way and go. Had I beat myself up for not knowing, or worried about it, or blamed something, I'd be creating more difficulty. It's so easy to do that. Instead I can say, "ah, I am here; interesting; I wonder how this will work." And then, playfulness has its part on stage. There has to be that moment of laughing. For me it was the fact that I carefully noted the tree and rock where the path started so I could find it again. I felt smart and confident in doing that until I got there and stopped in my tracks realizing that I didn't notice the fork. That was funny. I felt humbled in that moment. It's like when you're feeling good about yourself, strong, sexy, confident and then you get home and realize you have a piece of chocolate on your cheek. You know what I mean. It's best to laugh. The alternative is no fun.

The better way to go is to enjoy whichever path I am on and when there is a fork and unforeseen possibility opens up its doors again, I may find myself going in a new direction. I can then enjoy that journey with its ice, mud, and its smooth parts, too. And, when there is chocolate on my face, I will be sure to laugh.