Pause and Reflect

In-between the here and there, in-between the now and the yet to be, what do we do? Or, in other words, how do we make the getting there, the journey to our destination tolerable?

Ralph Waldo Emerson is credited with saying, “life is a journey, not a destination.” I’m not positive that Emerson said it because I found the quote on the internet without a source and that can only be trusted so much, but I could not find the quote in my hard-copy of Bartlett’s quotations. I am forced to trust the internets.

I am not really stuck on whether or not Emerson said it, but rather on the quote itself. It is something that I hear and try to embrace when on my wilderness trips – it is the journey, not the destination. It is not about getting to the top of the mountain or to the grotto in the canyon or to the island in the middle of the lake, but the experience that one has while getting there.

Once when climbing one of the high peaks in the Adirondacks, a friend of mine stopped to admire the gurgling sound of an underground stream near the trail. He thought it was one of the coolest sounds he had heard in a while and even recorded the sound on his phone for future enjoyment. I was initially annoyed with the pause because I wanted to get to the top of the mountain and was worried about the time we were taking to just stop and listen. But it was a really cool sound. There was a deep echo to each bubble and gurgle that suggested something more than just a small stream under some rocks. Something was happening below us that we could not see and it sounded amazing. This was discovered not at the destination, but on the way.

It is almost trite to remind ourselves that it is about the hike, the journey, and not the destination when thinking about wilderness experiences. That is until we think about life more broadly, beyond hikes and wilderness experiences. In the wilderness it is about the journey. Enjoy the journey. Notice the trees. Admire the flowers. That is except when the journey is difficult, is painful, or feels like it is going nowhere. And this happens from time to time and is an expected part of the wilderness journey.

But what about in the front-country, in the broader experience of trying to find one’s way through the challenges and difficulties and plans of life? Outside of the back-country, out of the wilderness, I often find myself continue to wonder where it is where I am going, what it is that I am doing, and having a difficult time enjoying the journey. Sometimes I wake up and consider the day before me and think that the journey of this new venture is lousy, is without shape or form, and I dread the day. Or, when I’m trying to pay bills for the month and realize that I have not been contributing to the income of the household in ways that I have in the past I wonder what it is that I am doing, and am not enjoying the journey. Truth be told, I’m still trying to figure out this new journey and it still feels unsettled and somewhat reckless. Perhaps this is a reality of life. Perhaps this is something that the majority of us feel in one way or another. Perhaps we all have moments and waves of existential dread, of overwhelming angst and anxiety and feel like we are not yet “there.” Whatever “there” is supposed to be.  We can easily find ourselves in a place where we hear that life is a journey and assume that the journey will be good. Except this is not always the case.

The theme of transition has loomed large in my recent blogposts. In this new, unknown vocational and career-change wilderness I have been leaning on Bridges’ classic text Transitions as a kind of guide. Not only because the title is on the nose, but because it has been recommended by people I highly respect. One of the things that Bridges recommends is that one stay active in the “neutral zone” – the space between the ending (leaving parish-based ministry) and the beginning (which is something that has yet to emerge). The neutral zone is the in-between time, it is a time of letting go, of adopting something new, and working your way from what was to what will be. For me, this is the journey I am in right now. The destination is the new beginning. As of yet, I do not know what this new beginning will look like and I am sure that I am not yet there. I am still in a time and space of transition, and there are many days when I am not enjoying it. When I am in the wilderness and am in that space of transition, it is easy to stop at a vista and take in the emerging view, to notice the sounds and the smells on the way; these are wonderful moments. But in the front-country what I find is that I constantly have that dropping feeling in the pit of my stomach, wondering if things will be ok or will not be ok.

I wonder why it is that it is easier to enjoy the journey in the wilderness, but in the front country, in the journey of life, I find myself wanting to be at a place that feels settled and complete. This is especially curious when I consider that the reality of life is that the end-point is death (or some kind of afterlife if you are a believing sort – which I am). Do I really want to be in a hurry to get to that place? This brings to question the nature and identity of the destination, but that might be a musing for another time.

Part of my own challenge is that I am not sure where I am going. There is not a map or a script or a model of what it is that I am supposed to do and where it is that I am supposed to be going. At the wonderful urging of Molly Grisham, I let go of my map of being a pastor of a church; it was not working any more. I am stepping into a wilderness real and metaphorical. Yet this means that I am in a place where I am unsettled with where I am but where I am not sure where I am going.

Bridges suggests that in the neutral zone there are a couple of things one could do to help with the transition. One is to accept that this time of transition and ambiguity is necessary. It is ok to feel a little lost, to be a little scared, and to have occasional waves of dread. Another is how important it is to pause, reflect, and to be deliberate in reflection. In the wilderness, this is something that I try to do especially around the lunch hour. I try to find a spot to stop hiking and to just be in the moment, to reflect on how the day has gone thus far and how I am feeling and to be thankful for the opportunity to be in the wilderness. Yet in the front country, in the reality of my transition, time of reflection does not feel as good. It is time when I give voice to the demons of unknowing and ambiguity and it is not comfortable or easy.

But this is important. I want to return to Emerson’s quote (regardless if he actually said it). Life is a journey. It is not necessarily an easy or good journey. It is just a journey. I recognize that for me, part of the difference is that I feel at peace in the wilderness (within reason). I also recognize that there are others who when they are in the wilderness may feel anxious, unsettled, because they are not used to the environment. I want to be a guide for those who may have a difficult time in the wilderness. I want to make the experience more of a blessing than a time of fear and worry. This is part of the reason that I encourage time for reflection in the wilderness when I am leading trips. The time to reflect may help with that feeling of anxiety and fear. It helps one find the moments of beauty, the sounds, the smells, and the sense that in the moment, everything is ok.

I don’t have one particular guide for my wilderness experience, but many guides. I need to name and own that I am not in this journey alone, but have many mentors, co-travelers, and supporters on this trek and I am grateful for each and every one. Yet the journey is still difficult and I need to take time to reflect. I wonder if I can take the practice of refection that I embrace in the back-country into the front-country. When I reflect, I will name the anxiety and the uncertainty. Yet I will also name the moments of peace, the beauty, the sounds and smells of the journey, the people in the journey that are blessings. This may or may not bring me any closer to a place where I might feel different or better, but may give me a space for being at ease and at peace. From there, I hope and pray that I will be able to fully embrace the journey with all of the roses and thorns.