BUILDING AT THE FORK

“It is not necessary to accept the choices handed down to you by life as you know it. There is more to it than that — no one HAS to do something he doesn’t want to do for the rest of his life. But then again, if that’s what you wind up doing, by all means convince yourself that you HAD to do it. You’ll have lots of company.”

– Hunter S. Thompson

The long version of the title is “Building a House at the Fork-in-the-Trail”, but that seemed a bit too long for a title, so I made a compromise in order to move forward here. 

My friend and “future New York Times best-selling author” Dave, shared the above quote from author Hunter S. Thompson as we recently went back and forth in a conversation about change, choice, risk-taking… adventure… you know, all those things I talk about in this blog.

I talked about how we come to a fork-in-the-trail in our lives; that intersection where decisions need to be made… I’m at one now… been here a while… been here before… 

…and by the way, why is the volume on the loudspeakers so high at this section of the trail anyways…

… keep moving…

… almost there…

… risk is dangerous…

So anyways, back to what I was saying… this Fork is a place where one direction appears to be well-traveled, and in fact, right now I see quite the crowd moving along in that direction.  As I watch them pass, it occurs to me that few appear to be giving any thought to the fact there is a decision to make right here… they’re all just moving along, distracted by the many things along the way that are meant to… well, distract. 

Maybe I’m overthinking it…

Maybe I just need to fall in line and keep moving with the crowd… 

Maybe, if I downloaded the trail info on my AllTrails app, I’d know what all these others apparently know…

Hmmm… maybe there is no decision to make here after all… I never thought about that possibility.  Afterall, we don’t pause at every intersection in life to weigh the choices we need to make… right?  Maybe this is one of those intersections I need to pass right through.  Green light; Go!  No Yellow; No Red…

… Safety is up ahead…

… Put your head down…

… Keep Moving…

Maybe I need to pay attention to the message blaring over the loudspeakers, although it’s a bit obnoxious right now… put your head down Gordon and keep moving. 

… Damn!  The volume sure is loud right now…

But something tells me I’m in a critical moment here, and the decision I make at this Fork will lead to radically different outcomes… either way. 

It’s hard to concentrate right now… the loudspeakers are relentless…

…put your head down…

…keep moving…

…you’re getting closer…

… work hard…

… ignore feelings; they deceive…

… safety and security are up ahead…

… keep moving…

… risk is dangerous…

… retirement is the golden years…

… relaxation… leisure… enjoyment… it’s up ahead…

… keep moving…

I’m struggling at hearing my own thoughts right now, as if having an independent thought is dangerous.  Someone please pull the power on those speakers!

I’ve grown to question the messages coming from the speakers over the years.  I’m in my 60’s, so according to my GPS, I’m getting closer to the end than the beginning of this trail, and I’m pretty fed up with the idea of continuing down the path.  The view hasn’t really changed much along the way and yet, the messages from the loudspeakers continue spewing out promises to those who obediently comply…

… keep moving…

… almost there…

… safety…

… security…

People pass by, marching forward in pursuit of those safe retirement pensions, continuing in the safety and predictability of their salaried jobs, participating in rituals masked as religion, personal growth, etc.   We’re all generally looking for the same thing on this journey.  We want to experience meaning, we want to feel passion about what we are a part of… we want to feel we’re connected and a part of something greater than ourselves… something to devote our valued time, energy and resources towards. 

The messages from the speakers encourage us to keep moving forward, but I’m tired of listening… and honestly, I don’t believe the promises any longer.  I’m tired of putting my head down, I’m tired of pushing forward, I’m tired of putting hope in what’s around the next corner and then learning it’s just more of the same. 

So I stand here at this Fork… tired… stuck…

THE OTHER DIRECTION…

As I stand here, I begin to look down the path in the other direction.  I see a few heading out that way, but then I’ve stood here long enough to see many of them return and join in with the masses heading down the well-worn trail. 

What’s out there anyways… I mean, what’s out there further than I’ve already gone previously? 

I’ve asked a few who turned around and returned, but didn’t get much info.  From the looks of their body-language, they were wrestling with their own conflict. I wondered if they got out there further than I have in the past.  I’ve heard a few consistent responses like “too much risk, scary, and unpredictable”.  Some spoke of having no guarantees they’d get where they desired so they turned around; others spoke of the growing concerns they were alone out there so began believing they had made a wrong decision… I’ve felt that once or twice for sure… Okay, I’ve felt that every time I’ve been out there!  Some mentioned that they’d seen others who didn’t appear to be turning around… at least not anytime soon. 

A NEED TO EXPERIENCE FOR MYSELF

Like I mentioned earlier, I’ve been at this Fork for a while and I’ve been here before.  I’ve walked out that other direction a few times over the years and those who have returned are correct… it’s a solitary trail.   If you’re looking for “safety in numbers” you are likely not going to find it out there.  This less-traveled direction offers excitement and adventure initially, the heart is filled with dreams of all the “Could be’s…” somewhere out there, but are they simply false-promises I also hear over the loudspeakers if I continue down the well-traveled path?   Am I putting myself at-risk for the same bullshit promised the other direction?

As I stand here at the Fork, I reflect on the many times I’ve walked out that other direction only to return here… to this very spot I stand once again today.

I remember all the excitement… it’s why I stand here again today looking out that direction, something continually pulls at my heart right here at this Fork.  But I also remember the struggles navigating a path that is not fully developed.  It’s rough, it’s narrow, there are places with steep drop-offs, and there are plenty of times when you entertain thoughts that somehow you’ve gotten off the path and are lost.  And those who are either brave or foolish enough to attempt it soon learn there is quite an elevation gain not very far up the path.  It soon becomes clear that taking this route will require everything you have… and then comes the questions of whether all that I have is good enough.

And remember that enthusiasm I was talking about earlier?  Well, it soon abandons you and returns to the Fork, leaving you alone with the questions, the self-doubt, and they can be a bitch to wrestle with in these moments… 

Am I reckless… irresponsible? 

Have I cast wisdom aside to come out this direction? 

Will this be an enormous regret if I continue?

My friends and family warned me not to do this…

What do others know that I don’t know? 

If this is such a great decison, why do I see so few out here?

Are there mountain lion out here?

So, I came up with what I believed to be a good solution… otherwise known as a compromise!

BUILDING A HOUSE AT THE FORK-IN-THE-ROAD

The word “compromise” should always raise a red flag.  It doesn’t mean it’s bad, but the red flag should still go up.  Compromise is great in a healthy marriage and in relationships with others, but when you begin to compromise with yourself, you should be leery of the act.  That said, on to my solution… which sounded great at the time, but not so much now.

I knew I was finished walking that well-traveled trail… I stopped believing the messages coming from the loudspeakers along the way, but I was also mindful of all my failed attempts to head out that other direction.  I was kind of stuck here, so I decided it would be a great idea to build a house at this Fork-in-the-Road. 

I entertained myself by sitting in my favorite lawn chair out front sipping on a cold stout watching the parade of people pass by.  I occasionally stepped out on the back patio to admire the rugged 14’ers off in the distance on the less-traveled path and wondered what was out there, but that soon troubled me, so I stopped doing that.  I became comfortable… in a numb kind-of-way, but at least I can live with myself out here.  I knew I could not continue down that well-traveled path any longer. 

Occasionally I thought of trying to be more productive out here to keep my mind occupied.  The numbing effect of the various distractions was less and less effective over time.  You can only binge watch so much TV, and there came a point where sports just didn’t hold my interested like it used to.    

THE LIGHTBULB

Then there came a day recently when the lightbulb went on.  I’d love to say it was a positive thing but all it has done is create enormous conflict within me.

On this day, I realized that the Fork-in-the-Road is not a place to live… it is a place to make a decision.  As satisfying as it was all that time ago to step off the well-worn trail and stop listening to the propaganda blaring over the loudspeakers, it was only a step in a process… it was never meant to be a place to stay… to live… to build a house.  It was never a place to get comfortable.

To step off the well-traveled path was an act that stated, I am not giving up on my dreams, I am not going to compromise on my deepest desires for passion and purpose in this life, I am done conforming… I am done complying… But to remain at this place, this Fork, is to say I’m not willing to take the risk that comes with the next steps.   

If you would accept this perspective, in some ways, the house I built here at the Fork has become a prison.  I cannot go further down the well-worn trail, but I’ve also previously failed to possess the courage to walk away from the illusion of safety and security that comes with that other direction… I’ve failed to possess the courage to take the required risk, to sacrifice the small measure of comfort I’ve become accustomed to in this life of compliance, I’ve in effect become paralyzed at this Fork… unwilling to climb upward, but unwilling to continue downward. 

I’ve been unwilling to free myself from the artificial measures of safety put into place in this life, to take off the seatbelt, to ride without a helmet, I’ve been… as an old coworker once said, unwilling to put myself in a position where I was not at the top of the food-chain… out there in the wilderness… out there where the views are as breathtaking as the wind is fierce.

Getting off the metaphor and talking about life:

I know, we’ve been talking about life all along here.  But from where I stand… again right fricken here at this Fork… I think of the importance of showing my kids… my grandsons, that there is a different way of living this life.  My kids are in their 30’s and 40’s and I’ve seen the pressures of this world wear down their spirits, I’ve seen how the pressures to conform, to fall in line, have shaped their thinking a bit.  I owe it to my family to become an example that not only can we survive if we make the decision to climb this less-traveled path, but we can thrive out there.

PONDERING AS I CLOSE

This was fun for me to write.  It has been challenging for me to think through, because there are steps that must be taken if I plan on walking out of this little makeshift prison I’ve created for myself. But as I worked through this process, I found that I stayed with the writing, something I have failed to do often in recent attempts. I resisted the temptations to give up and turn to food to take the edge off, I resisted turning on the weekend football games to distract me. 

I do hope this challenges you to think, to become uncomfortable if needed about the choices you are making or are about to make.  I hope that with any discomfort comes some doors that perhaps had not noticed or had been ignored before… and I hope it leads you to walk toward those doors… to walk out that other direction… and maybe keep going. 

Good luck!  I’m rooting for you!