If I push against a wall, the wall pushes back. That’s because we live in a world of action and reaction, cause and effect.
But it took me until I was this many years old to figure out it isn’t, “If I do A, only B will happen.” When we act, we get multiple reactions.
For instance, when I push against a wall, the wall pushes back, and my left wrist sends a zing! up my forearm because of that time I fell on it back in 11th grade when I tripped over a volleyball.
And then I’m sure to remember that time when I was a senior in volleyball, and it was homecoming, and you remember those big hoops with paper wrapped over them that players burst through? At the homecoming game, my name was the first called so I was supposed to run out to the middle of the gym and break through the paper to the cheers of the crowd. What actually happened? I hit the paper and bounced back, falling on my ass in front of God and everyone.
I got all this from pushing on a wall.
Equally important (and obvious, now that I think about it) is that if I choose a different behavior, I get different multiple reactions.
The reason I'm thinking about this is because I went for a run on one of my favorite trails this past week. The weather here has been disturbingly beautiful for late January, and while it felt wrong existentially, I wanted to take advantage of it physically.
The thing was, I was feeling exhausted. It’s like all life’s demands were put on hold for four months while I was in Japan. Now that I’m back, those demands have turned toddler, demanding everything and asking for more.
So as I ran up the hill on my favorite trail, a part of me was counting the cost of this action. I was sure to pay for it.
And at the same time, my spirit was bounding through the woods like a deer, reveling in the feel of the sun and the sound of leaves under my feet.
I kept climbing and kept climbing, and again, I knew this could deplete me even more.
And I felt called to the summit up ahead, the one full of beautiful energy and breathtaking views.
I should turn back.
I should keep going.
I kept going.
I reached the summit and dropped to my knees, putting my hands on the dead and golden weeds. I kissed the earth and whispered the refrain that I have cobbled together from something I read by Marion Woodman. “I trust. I work. I wait. This is God’s land.”
I was fed and held, heard and supported by the earth.
Later that night, I was so exhausted, I could barely put two words together when I was trying to have an important conversation with someone.
As I went to bed, I remembered the feel of the earth on my lips. That run fed me in a way that I haven’t been fed since being back from Japan.
It left me spent.
It can all be true.
A different choice—turning back and resting, for instance—would have also had multiple effects that I can only imagine. Because I didn’t make that choice.
This realization has given me a little more grace for myself as I am living and acting in this world. Because it isn’t that one choice is right and another is wrong. It is that choices create ripples in ourselves and in the world.
It’s also helped me to right-size my choices. Each choice isn’t the end all or be all. It’s one choice, and it will have effects, and we are constantly in a space to choose—what now? What next? What gifts might each choice bring? What challenges?
While this could be overwhelming, it can also be a relief. This choice. Just this one. Then see what happens and make another. And another, worrying less about getting it right or wrong, and more about opening up to all kinds of possibilities and choices and outcomes and frustrations and surprises.
Trust. Work. Wait. And it probably wouldn’t hurt for me to remember to rest. And drop to my knees once in a while.
we should all drop to our knees periodically. another great piece. thank you.