Striking out on a new path

Alice came to a fork in the road. “Which road do I take?” she asked.

“Where do you want to go?” responded the Cheshire Cat.

“I don't know,” Alice answered.

“Then,” said the Cat, “'it doesn't matter.”

Lewis Carroll

When out for my Sunday morning walk at the weekend, I came to a literal fork in the road. I do this particular walk once a week and I have only ever turned right and follow the pathway which circles back to my parked car. On Sunday, I chose left.

I have repeatedly looked at the signage and wondered where the other path leads. Cyclists hurtle to it at full speed, focused and sure of their direction. This time I followed through on the interior nudge.

Sometimes we get stuck in a rut, unable to muster the enthusiasm or courage to change and strike out on a new path. The longer we ignore those nudges, the heavier it can feel to take that first step. What could have been a simple choice becomes loaded with resistance.

Making the decision to change initiates momentum

As soon as I had set foot on the new path, my senses were alert to unfamiliar sounds and sights. The usual low hum of motorway traffic was replaced by stillness and the pleasant gurgle of running water. Cows lay on their bellies in lush grass enjoying the early morning sunshine. Ornaments and flowers decorated the multitude of allotments, interspersed by the occasional cyclist or runner offering the cheerful north German greeting of ‘Moin’ (pronounced M/oy/n). The novelty was invigorating. Emboldened by that initial decision to choose differently, I walked with a spring in my step.

Facing discomfort whilst remaining curious

Around forty-five minutes in, I realised that the path was singular and taking me further away from my parked car. It had been a while since I had passed another person. The silence was pierced by the caws of crows sitting idly on the white branches of a birch tree, conspicuous in its summer nakedness. Part of me wanted to continue onwards, to explore and see where the road led but I knew I had a relatively long walk back to my car.

Frequently when we decide to take a step into the new, the unfamiliar may appear strange or frightening. The urge to run back to ‘safety’, to the familiar past, may arise within us. It’s okay to follow that urge and return for a little while; after the passing of time, we realise we’re ready to go a new way after all. On Sunday, my curiosity and desire to walk won out and I continued onwards for an extra twenty minutes before turning back.

Feeling isolated or alone

When we choose to strike out on a new path, we may feel alone or isolated for a time. This is a necessary part in building inner resilience. This period of uncertainty, of not knowing, where we have quietly made a commitment to ourselves and must now

embody the new can flare up resistance and fear within us. As the old habit, behaviour or belief falls away and we strive for the new, the time between can feel disorientating. Even when we know that something needs to change, the familiar often feels safe and comforting, even when it is neither of these things.

As I caught a glimpse of a grey heron, I was struck by its grace and stillness. It stood motionless whilst crows, ducks and hares frolicked close by. The heron reminds me of the necessity of solitude for reflection and contemplation. These birds embody sovereignty in their ability to stand alone whilst they are simultaneously connected to everything that surrounds them. Whenever I am going through a transition, I think about the grey heron and hope to nurture those same qualities within me.

Seeing the familiar from a new perspective

As I retraced my steps to the car, my attention was drawn to a metal art installation high on a hill. I have often walked to the summit of the hill with my daughter to watch the sun set. I realised I was now walking the road which I had previously known from high above. I had always admired the birds-eye-view of the fields and waterways,

The view from above

my gaze soothed with the balance of land and sky. At the foot of the hill, the river’s body snaked and carved the earth, dotted with small wooden docks. No longer shrunken to miniature proportions, the river lay just metres away. How crowded and teeming with life it was down here, where ducklings cry out and race to their mother and butterflies flit between grasses, the air thick with heat.

When Alice reached a fork in the road, she didn’t know which way to choose because she didn’t have a definite destination. Much like my own crossroad on Sunday morning, it didn’t really matter what direction I chose. Both would allow me to walk. Nevertheless striking out on a new path was refreshing. Encountering new sights leads to new thoughts and ideas too.  However, there are times in life when we have a deeper sense and inner knowing that change is vital and necessary. We are required to consciously choose a path. These are the times when we have to dig deep, make a choice and commit to it by walking the new into existence. In the words of a dear friend, Going new ways in trust and confidence… it’s always worth it.