Getting There vs. Being Here

Already I’ve learned a valuable lesson from the trail. 

Being a normal American baby-boomer adult professional, I can be extremely goal oriented. I have enough sense to focus on what is immediately in front of me – like the next stream crossing or tonight’s campsite vs. Georgia. But, I’m still like the Donkey in Shrek 2 on the journey to Far Far Away. This conversation was running through my head on a continuous loop:. 

Are we there yet?

No.

Are we there yet?

No.

Are we there yet?

No.

Are we there yet?

No.. 

You get the idea. 

The trail has a way of beating this out if you. First, my ankle. Then my eye. Then the blowdown. I was turning into one frustrated puppy. Ian said the same thing was happening to him. I’m sure he was frustrated with me, which added to my anxiety, impatience, and negativity. That dialogue kept going faster and faster. 

Finally I began to realize that “there” was much less important than “here”. I was missing all that was around me. We are so conditioned to focus on our goals that we miss what is around us. 

I have a friend from work who would often say, “it’s a journey”. Intellectually I agreed with him, but emotionally I focused on the goal. I expect he did that too, and repeated that phrase to remind himself as well as me. 

Well the trail does that every minute of every day. It doesn’t care where you are going. It just is. And if you are smart – you begin to agree that here you are. On it. Right here. Right now.
So gradually I have been suppressing that little repetitive dialogue. Instead of focusing on where I am going, I’m trying to focus on where I am. 

Instead of being frustrated by a massive pile of blowdown that is impeding my progress and delaying my goal, I can appreciate the force of nature that created it, and enjoy it as a puzzle that needs to be solved (how to get around it) and celebrate the success of navigating it . 

Instead of focusing on the far bank of the next stream crossing, I can focus on the beauty of the stream, feel the power of the moving water and the coolness on my hot tired feet. I can appreciate that the caked mud is being washed off my boots and my pant legs. 

Why am I so focused on the next shelter or campsite when there is really nothing there until we get there? It is just a spot on a map – an empty three-sided building. I am bringing the gear and the food. And me.
So both Ian and I are resolving to spend our time “here” rather than “there” – to stop an smell the roses (or deer poop, more likely). 

The internal dialogue has slowly begun to change. 

Am I here?

Yes. 

Am I here?

Yes. 

Am I here?

Yes. 

Much more positive and much more satisfying.