Step Away from the Edge
"Hello.......oh......oh.....oh....... ," I yell down into the hole. The echo bounces off the dirt walls as it pings and pongs its way down — maybe, like the old story goes, all the way through the planet to the other side and China. Then what happens? Does my "hello" become cosmic litter as it flies through into the dark skies? One thing I know for sure is that these holes are deep!
I carefully get up from kneeling at the edge since I don't want to fall in and become cosmic litter myself. Loose dirt falls off of my pant legs and I wipe the rest off of my shoes, then side step around the hole. I wonder how much the hole really matters, or even if it has a bottom at all.
Once on the other side of the hole, I look up at the sun, then pick up a stone and toss it in. I stoop down slightly and turn my ear to listen for any "thunk". Nope. I think the hole does go through to China.
Patterns
I tell this story twice recently while here in Vermont: I think it may be a Zen story, but I really don't remember anymore. It's a good story, so it has stuck with me now for a long time. I paraphrase it here.
A man is walking down a street and without seeing it first, falls into a huge hole. "Whoaaaaa! Now, how do I climb out of this?" He figures it out, but it takes awhile.
The next day, he's walking down the same street, and not remembering the hole, falls in again. "Right! I remember now." It takes him a bit less time than the day before to climb out.
The third day, he walks down the same street, sees the hole and remembers it, then falls in. He climbs out more quickly.
The fourth day, he walks down the street and sees the hole, then remembers having to climb out. He chooses to walk around the hole.
Eventually, he takes a different street.
Trapped?
Several times in several places around the country, I found myself saying to someone, "You need to change the story you tell, then you won't get trapped back inside the original story."
I don't know where the "old stories" come from really. There was the seed. Then what happened? Karma? Environment? Culture? How much twisting has happened to take the new growth sprout and contort it into some unrecognizable shape? But once settled into that form, there it is, not wanting to shift.
Hence, the axe! Chop. Chop. But the root is there still and when the conditions are ripe, the sprout sneaks out again.
How do we let go of the re-plays and the old patterns?
Yank out the taproot!
It takes awhile to change the story and recently I think about which stories of mine might need changing still. Coming back to Vermont and picking up life where I had left it for the year on the "road" feels surrealistic to me now. Much feels the same, yet I'm different. I watch myself more—like I watch others.
"Change the story," I whisper.
"Which story?" I ask back.
The Edge
I stop in to see a friend en route, and have a phone chat with another friend. We are all asking new questions of ourselves. We all fall into the hole, even after we see the hole looming ahead.
" I can't believe I live with so much anxiety," says. M. "When will I learn to let it go?"
"I just completely spun out of control," D. tells me. "Everything was okay in the end and I felt like a stupid kid reacting for no reason."
Welcome to the human race. I look for the hole and whatever happens, I try not to fall in. Maybe together, we can bring shovels and fill it in so no one has to fall into it ever again. Maybe the act of falling in is what allows us to learn and grow. Maybe we can let the hole be there and once at the edge, choose to "step away", like the Zen story, and walk around. Maybe we decide to tell a different story.
I stop in to see a friend en route, and have a phone chat with another friend. We are all asking new questions of ourselves. We all fall into the hole, even after we see the hole looming ahead.
" I can't believe I live with so much anxiety," says. M. "When will I learn to let it go?"
"I just completely spun out of control," D. tells me. "Everything was okay in the end and I felt like a stupid kid reacting for no reason."
Welcome to the human race. I look for the hole and whatever happens, I try not to fall in. Maybe together, we can bring shovels and fill it in so no one has to fall into it ever again. Maybe the act of falling in is what allows us to learn and grow. Maybe we can let the hole be there and once at the edge, choose to "step away", like the Zen story, and walk around. Maybe we decide to tell a different story.
Changing One Story at a Time
The leader counts all of us as we introduce ourselves to the group.
"I'm ________(insert name here) from _____________(insert home town here)."
27 times.
In my attempt at shifting my "Lone Wolf" hiking story, I sign up for a handful of Hiking Meet Up groups. Many of them are far enough away to make a day hike unlikely. Usually, I drive into the White Mountains for a number of days in a row since the drive is about three hours from my home. Several days makes it worthwhile. From the daily notifications of hikes originating from the handful of groups, I choose one the day after Thanksgiving with the Four Seasons Hiking Group. We start the hike at 10:30 a.m. from the back side of Mt. Sunapee in New Hampshire. Less than an hour and a half drive at a reasonable starting hour. I click the RSVP bar that says "YES", fill out the required information on the form, read the liability waiver, and plan my driving route to the trailhead parking area.
Several people have arrived before me, so I get out of my truck to say hello and find out if I am in the right place. And so I am. Two others who are early are also new to this group and we bond as the "newbies" here. As others arrive, it is clear that theses folks have hiked together before, and it's nice to see their camaraderie.One of the leaders pulls a roped wooden sign up and over his head. "Four Seasons Hiking Meet Up" is carved into the plank.
Once we all are ready, we form a circle to get the overview from the leader, and do the "meet and greet" by introducing who we are and where we are from. 27 people in a circle. 27 names and places. "27" is a lot of people when one is used to solo hiking.
We start off behind the leader and the "sweep" person lingers at the end. I wait for the "herd" to go by, and hang to the back with C. the "sweep". I'm not in a rush, not a marathon hiker. I like to take my time, and I hope that I haven't made a mistake by joining in on today's hike.
As I stop to take a clothing layer off due to my accelerating body temperature on this warm November day, C. tells me that I should let him know when I need to stop for any reason, so he can call ahead to the leader and have everyone stop. This is a group that stays together on the trail, and I wonder how the day will unfold if we have to stop every time someone, any one of the 27, needs to stop for whatever reason they need to stop. Water, bathroom break, clothing shifts. I fight off the feeling of annoyance, and remind myself that they care about the safety of the group, and keeping us all together keeps us safe.
I am here for the social aspect of hiking and if I don't stay open, I won't experience it fully. I shift my attitude and hike on.
In two miles, we reach Lake Solitude, and then continue on up to the White Ledges that overlook the water. At this point, half the group decides to return back on the same trail we just hiked up. The other half wants to continue to the Sunapee summit and head down the other side. I hike along with the second group, now 12, and feel this number is more manageable. I have easier hiking and easier conversations. I decide to watch for upcoming Meet Ups with fewer people attending.
Once down, many of us head to a local pub/restaurant for part three of the day. Social hour. The hike is an excuse to be "social". Ah....I get it now. It's not really about the hike. It's being social in the group. I need a different perspective.
I need to change the story!
I'll work on it. Then hike solo for the hiking, and hike "social" for the comaraderie.
Once down, many of us head to a local pub/restaurant for part three of the day. Social hour. The hike is an excuse to be "social". Ah....I get it now. It's not really about the hike. It's being social in the group. I need a different perspective.
I need to change the story!
I'll work on it. Then hike solo for the hiking, and hike "social" for the comaraderie.