May the road rise to meet you.

My note from a slow coach this week reflects on Baltic endorphins, some internal torment due to a decision made by my past self that my present self didn’t appreciate, and a poem contemplating whether adventure is always just around the corner. It’s an excerpt from a journal entry a couple of weeks ago when I was in Finland.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_VzkTNi53E

I’m still feeling invigorated from last night’s dip in the Baltic Sea. I don’t know if it’s the exhilaration of spending 90 seconds in 4-degree (Celsius) water or the satisfaction I feel from following through on my intention. Something caught me when I looked across the water a few days ago—a pull I couldn’t ignore. The idea of getting in the water was great. Until it was time to do it.

What was I thinking?

The two hours leading up to my plunge were filled with antsy-pantsy pacing and flip-flopping. I was not amused by my decision. Still, I knew that if I didn’t go through with it, the regret of missing this opportunity would far outweigh the momentary despair of doing something I knew would be wildly rewarding (once I resurfaced and was safely ensconced in the sauna—my happy place).

This morning’s inner calm is a blend of satisfaction and physical aliveness. The sauna not only offered a delightful reward for completing my challenge but also enhanced the experience. The contrast of fire and ice creates a unique sensation.

Forever on the horizon

This morning, I am returning to the list of phrases and ideas we developed at the start of our month of “Adventure” in The Haven. I had intended to use one each morning in my journal practice, but it hasn’t happened yet. No problem, I am up for it today. Now.

I spin the wheel, and it throws “Adventure is waiting just beyond view” onto the screen. I don’t think it’s a saying, but it feels familiar. Similar to the idea that adventure (or growth) lies on the other side of your comfort zone.

I’ve always had a complex relationship with these platitudinal sayings. They carry kernels of truth for particular situations but are often espoused as universal, all-encompassing statements of fact.

May the branch rise to meet them

My eyes are drawn through the window. My first coffee of the day is on the cabinet beside me. Adventure is waiting just beyond view. Those words feel coarse to me here. Itchy. Like an irritant on my skin. I can see a squirrel moving effortlessly through the trees and a crow perched on a breeze-flexed branch above, and I wonder if they ever wonder about these things.

It’s tempting to get caught up in the assumption that everything good is just beyond view. It’s the engine of consumer culture, the ideology of endless striving. Like a perpetual mirage, we see the reward, but it moves further as we get closer.

“Just a little further” becomes a mantra in the meditation of hustle. Advice is cheap and contradictory.

I am interested in how we can develop a more nuanced and healthy relationship with growth, purpose, and flow in life.

If adventure is forever around the corner, what am I overlooking right here? To feel settled without settling and expectant without expecting.

Isn’t this moment the adventure that was just around the corner from that previous one? I think of the old blessing: “May the road rise to meet you.” Maybe that’s the real adventure—the road meeting us where we are.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjJXAL40MC4

May the flow rise to meet you

From the edge of this perch,
I strain my neck to watch a squirrel
dart, weightless, certain of the branches
that will reach out and catch her
with every flight, twist, and descent.

Is it true that I can find an
Adventure waiting just beyond view?

If I round the corner.
If I push the button.
If I make the call.
If I am patient.
If I lead.
If I trust the process.
If I take a step.
If I listen.
If I dare.
If I follow.
If I let this grow.
If I am brave.
If I am gentle.
If I put it out there.
If I stop forcing it.
If I let go.
If I pick up.
If I let come.
If I go forth.

A blackbird offers its weight
to a quietly accommodating branch.
I notice now
my body perched on this old horizon.

I will rest here a while,
inside this adventure,
once beyond view.
The next one takes care of itself.

The sauna’s heat and the sea’s shock—slow out-breath against sudden gasp. My nerves crackled right up to the edge, then dissolved into the oldest rhythm: stillness after motion, motion after stillness—no need to choose. Just take the step and let the flow rise to meet you.

Seizing the superannuation of child abusers: Andrew Carpenter Pt.2