Like all good adventures, this one started with no well thought out plan, no rigid agenda, and no highly anticipated expectations. There were only three things that we were going to try to do; sight seeing, target shoot and hunting coyotes in the desert. I was only going to be gone for a few days, what more could we possibly fit in a few days?
I was invited to this adventure by an extreme sports enthusiast who lived by this mantra, “I am more afraid of not living than I am of dying.” And no, I was not aware of that particular worldview at the time I accepted his invitation. Our lives are much different, but still, there is a common thread that binds us to each other and so many others. Frequently, it was the topic of conversation but never a hindrance to what we set out to do.
Rocks and Ditches
The first leg of our adventure started out in the city that never sleeps, took us through the Mojave Desert, the Sierra Nevada Mountains and ended almost 12 hours later in Northern California. We made so many stops along the way that the stereotypical Japanese tourist would be envious. It was as if around each turn was the expanse of another mountain range to capture digitally, or in the case of Yosemite, the depths of another gorge to fathom. “Wow” was the only word that came to mind.
I tried to persuade myself, to no avail, that they were just rocks and ditches, physical representations of the impediments many of us face each day. But soon that analogy would break down. If that were true, how could anyone survive? Someone had to blaze a trail for others to follow; someone had to go first and find a way over, through or around what stood in their path. Without sophisticated satellite imagery and ubiquitous smartphones with GPS technology, there were those that did just that.
Moving Mountains
I wonder how many think they can move their mountains; by their sheer will, command it to jump and expect it to yield to their presence. It sounds psychotic, doesn’t it? How did those who crossed over the first ridge of mountains react when all they could see was another set of mountains? Imagine conquering one mountain range only to face a gorge so deep that abandoning the quest was the only viable option?
I am frequently asked the question “How do you feel, ” and I am confident those that ask are sincere. Still, I must ask myself, “Does it matter? Does it change the mountain or the gorge that lies ahead?” The impediments didn’t change; each is still just as big. What does it matter what one feels at any given time? I would suggest that it doesn’t. But that doesn’t imply overcoming the challenges before us is hopeless. In fact, the opposite is true.
Surveyors and Pack Mules
There is hope! Do you have someone to journey with, a map-maker who has seen the landscape and has found a path through, over, or around? Do you know anyone who can frame your questions in such a way that success is attainable? The mountain is still there; it has not moved, it has not wrinkled in fear of your next utterance. If no one comes to mind, it may be time to look for a surveyor; one that has walked in your shoes knows the lay of the land and will keep you on a course headed in the right direction.
Is your burden too heavy for you to carry? You have to find a way to lighten your load; one that is willing to fill in as a pack mule to share the burden. Maybe some of the mundane activities of daily life are draining you of your energy and keeping you from doing what is important. Repeatedly, those closest to me remind that there are things that I should no longer do. “HELP” is not a four-letter word. Technically it is, but you get the point.
Do you feel empowered? You have not changed. So what changed? You are no longer going alone. There is someone who can walk before you and others who can walk by your side. I would try to avoid the reference to the mule, no matter how tempting. If you need a sharpshooter to cover your back, I might know someone who knows someone.
Not Living Differs From Dying
The only thing left is to ask the question, “I am more afraid of not living than I am of dying?” If my greatest fear is “not living,” I will find a way around, over or through the mountains that stand before me. Somehow, I will find a way to prevail. If my greatest fear is dying, the only possible out come is that I will realize many of the emotions that accompany death in a variety forms over and over again.
Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing,
Ivy is thrilled that I made it back home in one piece. She heard that I had to fold myself in half to get in my seat on the plane.
Al and his faithful sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.