If you travel by foot through my yard and down a short stretch of road, you find yourself at an access point to the many trails in behind the main trail around Westwood lake. I wander them often, sometimes daily.
This morning, as I roamed through the muddy paths in a sprinkle of rain, I was reflecting on choice. At first I wandered the trail in the same loop, unsure if branching out would leave me lost. Slowly, as the spring warmth became more consistent and my energy levels built, I didn’t care so much if I got lost. I knew I could retrace or find a new way. I knew I had and could manage the extra time. I started to take trails I knew were more rigorous and would get my heart rate up. I’d opt for a magical narrow path knowing I would find soft, bright patches of moss. I would follow the sound of water and find myself along the Creekside.
Every time I come to a fork in the path, I pause. I absorb what limited information I have of each option. I don’t think too much about it, and often choose based on intuition. Perhaps my reaction is in relation to my body “I’ve had enough and I know for sure the energy requirements of this direction.” Maybe it’s my whimsical nature that makes the choice. “This looks like somewhere the faeries would lead me, I’m following them!” Sometimes it’s the part of me that doesn’t love routine, that says, “hey, I haven’t been this way yet, where will it lead me?”
The more time I spend with myself, the faster those choices become. The faster the process of weighing the options. The less fear I have about trusting the choice. Part of it is that I developed a comfort with the trails, I found myself in familiar places every time I took the unfamiliar path. I came to trust in my sense of direction. I came to trust that the trails couldn’t leave me so far from home that I wouldn’t be able to find my way. I came to trust my body could carry me long distances. That I could adjust my path to meet my energy and push past my reserves if I needed.
I was relating this to my ability to make choices in my daily life. I have a lot of resistance to choice. I flip flop a lot. I fear making the wrong decision. I fear ruining things, or living in regret. Lot’s of fear, much like my initial approach to the framework of paths. So many options, what will happen if I branch out? What happens if I let this path go for something unpredictable? What if I end up stranded on this new path, depleted and wishing I’d had the sense to stay on the familiar road?
Times in my life when I’ve been strong in my embodiment of myself, I’ve found the same things as I do on my morning walks. A deeper trust. In the strength of my body, in the validity of the feelings that arise, in the wisdom of loud, clear, thoughts. As a result, I’ve managed choice with more grace. I’m in a process of deep self reflection amidst this pandemic. I’ve been blessed to connect with a great support group as I work through things and am fortunate to be continuing on with my counselor via Zoom. I’m feeling more clarity, more ability to choose. Nothing is definitive, everything changes. Maybe my choice IS wrong. Maybe it’s right, but only for the moment. Regardless, I know that I’ll never be so far off my path that I can’t find my way back. I’ll never be lost, not truly. The unfamiliar will always lead me back to the center of my Self.