“So often times it happens that we live our lives in chains, and we never even know we have the key." Already Gone, The Eagles.
I have felt a sort of change occurring within myself lately. Something about the expectation of changing seasons has caused a pathological craving for discovery. I suppose it is this feeling that causes people to quit their white-collar jobs to open a Chinese-Italian fusion restaurant near Fort Lauderdale. Feeling a craving for adventure is somewhat at odds with my natural personality. I am an accountant by trade and anal-retentive by choice. I am an intensely goal oriented individual that implements routines that will make me more intelligent, financially successful and physically fit. Although routine as a whole is a positive thing, it is worth investigating whether a strict adherence to routine can only bring about positive things.
My day is centered around achieving small goals that will move me closer to my larger, more-overarching life goals. My desire for achievement stems from a fear of living a meaningless and unfulfilling life. As such, I put a lot of energy, study and focus into the activities that I believe will make me feel more fulfilled. In some ways, this has created a warped relationship with reality. The thought of being unable to achieve a personal goal seems like it will have catastrophic consequences. The desire for control and attention to detail is necessary to achieve complex goals; however, this same desire for control has caused me much stress, anger, fear and anxiety. I go about my days trying to engineer each small detail with the hope that it will make me feel equanimity, contentedness and triumph. Yet the thing that I find ironically hilarious is that the most joyful and fulfilling moments of my life come about exactly when I stop trying to manufacture them.
I would like to share the story that caused this realization. Last Saturday, after waking up to the news that it was going to be a sunny day, I decided that my only goal was to remain outside for as long as possible. The bold greens of the trees and piercing light blue sky induced a feeling of unadulterated joy. Each passerby wore the smile of unconcealed enthusiasm that adorns a Washingtonian who, long-accustomed to the drab and pervasive gloom, finally can answer the question, “so this is what happiness feels like?”.
The colors, conversations and complacency of that Saturday afternoon were shaded with anticipation of summer. I walked four miles around a quaint and meticulously manicured suburban park with my best friend. I ran for four miles around a newly discovered trail in the woods. Just when I thought I had spent enough time outdoors, I made eye-contact with the bike which I acquired for $20 via garage sale. It had sat dormant through the unrelentingly gloomy Seattle winter. The bike and I mutually agreed that it was time to put some air in the tires and go for a ride. I decided to take it down a trail that I had been wanting to ride for weeks.
The ride was nothing less than a forest-and-sunshine-induced-serotonin overload. I had no control over the smile on my face while I rhythmically rolled over the trail while listening to Diana Ross's “I’m Coming Out” (You may judge me, but I only request that you listen to the song first). After an hour of being bathed by sunlight and fragrant air, I realized that I was lost in the woods and that the sun would be setting shortly. I instantly became anxious.The situation was not dire, but of course, my anxiety amplified the magnitude of perceived danger far beyond necessary limits. I began inhaling the customary thin blue flames that accompany that feeling of panic. My mind starting racing toward questions like, “Where am I? How will I get back to my car? Have I already passed that tree? Have I made a will yet? Do I even know how to start that process?".
The need to control every situation can be exhausting. For quite some time I have been wondering if anything could give me a break from the incessant worry and longing. At the moment when my fear of being lost reached an apex, I felt an impulse to embrace the wandering. Rather than thinking about where exactly I was or how exactly I would get home, I wanted to enjoy the rest of my bike ride without feelings of nervous anticipation. I wanted to feel the exhilaration of discovery that comes with faithfully trusting a navigational instinct with no sense of urgency. This shift of perspective caused an instant release of physical tension. I felt a calm wash over my body like I was a child back on the California beach, letting ocean waves engulf my entire body in feelings of terror and excitement. Instead of worrying about where I was, I focused entirely on the pleasurable hard-earned fatigue of my legs and the sun’s warmth gradually permeating my skin. As I was absorbing the sensation of new surroundings and vibrant colors, I came to a place on the road that will be a fixture in my memory associated with the word, “bliss”. The sunlight was fiercely shining on a vast expanse of plush green grass as happy families walked by laughing with one another. Not but 30 yards from the scenic landscape was the beginning of the trail. I had unknowingly and accidentally arrived at my destination at the peak of adventurous ecstasy.
Is that a coincidence? That something told me that letting go of what I was clinging to so tightly might help me arrive exactly where I wanted to be. In the midst of the fear of getting lost and pondering my incessant desire for future success, I arrived at my destination. I approach the next question with curiosity and disbelief: what is that voice? What is that internal and definitive voice that seems to contradict everything I believe to be true and points me in the right direction?
This whole quarantine-stay-at-home-and-FaceTime-your-friends-five-times-a-day-while-eating-microwave-pizza thing has really caused me to pause and reflect on whether or not what I am pursuing is what I really want out of life. While the end of my investigation has not been a dramatic course-change in life trajectory, it has provided me a new perspective on the path to get to my destination. Perhaps I will arrive where I am supposed to be whether or not I try to get there. I have no idea what the implications of this realization are, but perhaps it lies in the form of trading old habits for new ones. Trading the nonfiction business books for life-affirming fiction. Trading the same monotonous gym routine for discovering new hikes in my backyard. Trading the idea that adventure has to involve a $1,000 plane ticket to Europe for the idea that adventure can be a discovery of the unexplored beauty of my neighborhood.
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