At one point, we encountered an unmarked split in the path. We logically picked the one to the right, guided by the big rock we intended to loop around. Then we encountered another split, and then another, and yet another, each as unmarked as the last. After several minutes we noted — half laughing, half surprised — that we had made nearly zero progress on our loop as we still stood right between the two big rocks.
Our conversation slowly diminished as our focus turned to a single thought — were we lost? After about twenty more minutes (and an equal number of forks in the path), we made a decision to turn around, our anxiety heightening as we realized our return path looked nothing like the one we had just come down. The two giant boulders still stood loyal as ever beside us, but now felt intimidating. We wondered in silence whether we would pick the right path at each junction to get us safely back on track.
Guided by our intuition alone — which we were quickly losing trust in — we chose path after path until, out of the blue, a marker appeared and we were back on the trail as suddenly as we had veered off of it. Our shoulders relaxed, our conversation restarted, and the giant rocks embraced us once more.
But here’s the thing. The beauty of the mystical fog that enveloped us had been constant. The depth of our companionship had remained unaltered. The magnificence of the giant boulders surrounding us had never changed. And we had spent an hour together in the peace and beauty of nature — just as we had planned. Yet, what we felt was a mix of disappointment at our unfinished loop, remnant anxiety at what might have happened, and relief that we were back on track. Not triumphant, peaceful and rejuvenated as we had hoped.
What is it about being veritably on a marked path with a known destination that gives us the ability — or perhaps permission — to feel peace and see beauty? Is it possible to trust our journey even when we veer off down the unknown?
As a coach, I often meet potential clients who want to decide which trail to hike and to know with certainty where it’s headed. Over time, we realize together that the real work is to learn to trust, and find purpose and joy in the journey, no matter the path. Because you never know when those trail markers might disappear.
