When All You See is the Path, You Lose the Destination

I took my second jiu jitsu class today. For the most part, the language of the mat is as unfamiliar to me as Latvian was last month. But every so often, a phrase will reach my ears that makes perfect sense.

At the end of class, my husband has everybody circle up and share one thing they did well in class that day.

(As an aside, how awesome is that? Jiu jitsu is one of those sports where you spend years getting your ass handed to you over and over again. It’s easy for people to leave a class feeling defeated. This one simple ritual helps overcome that negativity spiral. And this is an easy habit that we can ALL do at the end of every day.)

One relatively new student shared about how he’s starting to understand how moves link together and the importantance of not becoming too wedded to a particular attack.

I immediately nodded in understanding, as this was a lesson I learned many years ago in fencing. When you become too committed to one particular move, you become frustrated and easily stuck if that move is thwarted. You become more focused on the specific path than on the desired overall outcome.

My husband described it this way –

 

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The picture on the top is what happens when you become too committed to a particular attack. You develop tunnel vision and you no longer are able to see the other possibilities.

The bottom picture shows a better approach. Know what you’re going for, but also be aware of everything around it. And don’t be afraid to change your approach.

Good stuff, that.

On my afternoon run, I got to thinking about how this same idea applies to life. It’s so easy to get overly focused on how we’re going to reach our goals (a specific partner, a particular job, a desired number of children, an anticipated income), that if those are taken away from us, we feel frustrated and stuck. We become so wedded to those particular things that we cannot see another option.

I went through a little thought exercise on my run. I’d like to share it with you and have you try it too.

 

First, I want you to think of your major life goals/values/driving principles.

Nope, those are too specific. Try again. To help keep them broad, limit yourself to two.

Here’s mine –

  1. I want to leave my little campsite that I’m occupying for my time on earth just a little better than I found it.
  2. I want to live a life that is driven by love not fear.

 

Next, think about what you’re doing in your life right now that helps to meet that goal.

Again, I’ll share some of mine with you –

Goal 1

  • As a teacher, I’m using some of the deficits in my own math instruction to help me reach more students in a meaningful way.
  • After feeling so alone during divorce, I’m working to use my experience to help others that are going through similar.

Goal 2

  • I continually find ways to persevere despite my anxiety about a situation. This could be anything from going down a hill (seriously. I know.) to initiating a difficult conversation with my husband.
  • In the classroom, I choose to handle classroom management through relationship building rather than punitive discipline, which is often motivated by a fear of the kids gaining the upper hand.

 

Lastly, brainstorm some other ways that you could also work towards that same goal that you do NOT currently have in your life.

Here are just a few of mine for goal 1. This is brainstorming, so they run the gamut –

  • volunteer in my community
  • win the lottery and donate a significant sum to a charity
  • pick up trash that I encounter on the trail or the river
  • make an effort to make everyone I speak to feel valued and important
  • go camping and leave behind a “welcome” note with a little firewood for the next guests
  • use my teaching skills to train people in a particular skill so that they can find employment

 

It’s amazingly freeing to step back sometimes and truly see how many possibilities there really are. Even if I lost my job tomorrow, never wrote another blog post and ended up divorced and broke again, I could still find ways to move towards that life goal. (Note to the universe – this is NOT a challenge!)

And that’s a pretty awesome realization.

Even when you lose one approach, you’re not out.

It just means it’s time to try something else.

 

 

In Case of Emergency, Open File

As a teacher, I am well-versed and well-practiced in emergency management plans. We meet as a faculty at the beginning of every school year and we learn the latest procedures and dialog through possible scenarios. We exit the meeting armed with detailed plans and signs, to be at the ready in case of an emergency. We then drill each plan throughout the year to iron out any problems and ensure that there is some about of automaticity to the procedure in case it actually has to be implemented during a true crisis.

I’m sure many of you have a similar situation at your work – you know what to do and where to go in case of fire, tornado, earthquake or, unfortunately, crazed gunman. You hope to never need those plans (and try to skirt around the thought of any of those events actually occurring), yet their mere presence offers some measure of comfort.

Because when we are in a true emergency, it is difficult to think. To process. When some level of decision has already been made in calmer times, it helps to ensure a basic level of operation in the heat of the moment and frees the mind to tackle the situation at hand.

 

You have emergency plans in case of fire.

Or break-in.

Or zombie apocalypse.

Or maybe even a traffic jam that leaves you unable to get to daycare before closing.

 

But do you have any emergency plans in case of a personal crisis?

A divorce.

A death.

A medical emergency.

A job loss.

Or just a I-can’t-take-it-anymore breakdown of undetermined origin.

 

Maybe you should.

 

We don’t like to think about those events happening. We don’t want to consider tragedy affecting our families. But, as we know, just because you want to think about it happening, doesn’t mean it won’t. And the reality is that al of us will face one or more of the above in our lifetimes.

 

So be prepared.

 

Create your own personal crisis plan while you are not in crisis.

 

Who will you call?

Where will you go?

What do you need to have at the ready?

If it is a protracted situation, what needs to happen to simply carry out daily life while the emergency unfolds?

 

Be specific. Your plan needs to leave no room for doubt in the moment.

Create structure. In crisis, we often need every step spelled out.

Address possibilities. The more thinking you do ahead, the more apt you will be to respond well in the moment.

 

Write it down. Sketch it out. Create a spreadsheet or a diagram.

And then tuck it away in a file, either electronic or tangible.

 

And in case of emergency, open file.

Rerouting

Almost four years ago, I moved to an area across the street from a park that had a four mile trail along the Chattahoochee. I walked or ran that trail several times a week for the year and a half I lived there, often with Tiger or Brock (or both) in tow. I knew its every twist, anticipated its every turn. I could anticipate the areas that would become impassable with rain and the sections that would crack and split in the heat of the summer. I was one with the rhythm of that trail, every step metered to match its demands. I could traverse its terrain almost subconsciously, as its topography was etched into my brain.

Once we moved, my almost-daily visits to this particular trail trickled to once every couple months. On one visit, not too long after the relocation, I stopped short on a particular section of the path. The trail used to continue straight ahead, dipping down into a creek where you had to cross over carefully placed stones, before climbing again on the other side. On this day, the trail in front had been disguised, tree limbs and stones dragged onto its packed soil to dissuade use while a new trail, still rough and somewhat undefined, veered off to the right and wound around the peak, meeting up with the old trail on the other side of the creek.

I resisted the urge to blaze ahead through the old, familiar trail. Instead, I tentatively took the new route. It was narrow, even treacherous in places, as it had yet to carry many feet along its virgin soil. It felt awkward traversing this new path within a known hike. Alien. It forced my brain out of its subconscious attention into a more focused space. I had not learned where every root or every rock lie in wait to catch an unsuspecting foot. I didn’t know which rocks across the water were secure and which only offered the illusion of a firm foothold. I felt myself slow as I paid attention to every detail until I was back on familiar ground.

With each visit, that new section of trail became more worn and more defined as the old trail slowly disappeared into the woods. Today, I realized that the old trail was indistinguishable from the surrounding woods; the only way it exists now is in the memory of those who have walked its path. And the new trail is now wide and firm, secure where it was treacherous and explicit where it was was subtle.

It’s uncomfortable when our paths are rerouted. It’s natural to resist the change. Walk it enough, however, and what was new and uncomfortable simply becomes the norm.

How Long is Your Marathon?

Marathon Preparedness
Marathon Preparedness (Photo credit: super-structure)

I’ve been getting this question a lot lately and it always make me shake my head and smile. Those are about the only smiles associated with the marathon at the moment. It turns out the nagging little virus I had a couple weeks ago was actually the beginning of pneumonia. I ended up taking a week off work (something I NEVER do) and spending all of it in bed. The marathon is now 6 weeks away and I’m trying to build up my stamina enough to stay awake past 6 pm, much less run for 4 straight hours.
At this point, I’m feeling quite a bit better. I’m just still very fatigued and my left ear has been blocked for two weeks and the associated dizziness, deafness, and ringing is about to drive me mad. I starting running again last Sunday (2.3 miles!) and just now got back from my second attempt (3.5 miles!). Tiger is happy as my reduced speed and short distances means he can join me on the runs. I, however, am not so happy as I should have run 9 miles today according to my now-defunct training schedule.
So, what do I do? I could give up and scrap the race entirely. I could force my body into running the distances spelled out by the schedule and just pick right back up. I could get angry and curse my body for getting sick without consulting me about the timing.

I’m not going to do any of those things. I’ve invested too much time and money to quit, my body isn’t ready to run 40 miles in a week right now, and the anger would just be wasted (especially since I wouldn’t be able to hear my cursing over my ringing ear). Instead, I am going to run as much as I can over the next 6 weeks. I’m going to listen to my body (figuratively until the ear clears, of course) and rest when I need to. I’m going to enter the race with no expectations about performance or time; I’ll just do the best I can with where I am on that day. Okay, maybe I have one expectation. I’m hoping the damn ear clears so that I can hear the bands the Rock n’ Roll race series is known for…

This isn’t that different than how I felt when the dust settled after the divorce. I never expected to be divorced. It was not part of the training plan I had for my life. I realized I could give up, pretend it never happened, or get angry and curse it for all time.

Or, I could accept that it happened and go forward the best I could.

How long is my marathon? Long enough that it will be a challenge but not so long that it will defeat me. I’ll complete it just like I got through the marathon of my divorce – one step at a time while remembering to keep breathing.

National Marathon Washington DC
National Marathon Washington DC (Photo credit: Wikipedia)