Wherein I gauge my progress
I am very often in a hurry. I even wrote a song about it, once upon a time.
As I have gotten older, it has become easier to resist the urge to rush. Though I am still pathologically early most of the time, I do realize in a meaningful way that racing through my life has prevented me from both enjoying it and learning from it.
But the urge still exists. Particularly when what I am trying to hurry through is a painful journey of discovery. Spending the Dark Night of the Soul looking for a freeway on-ramp to enlightenment never really worked out; I might have convinced myself the darkness was in the rearview, but I didn’t take anything away from the trip. As though seeing the Grand Canyon from the expressway would give me any meaningful sense of having been there.
The Fool turned up this morning, and I know exactly what it is trying to say: you think you are further along than you are, so you might as well slow down and observe some of the scenery.
I have made incredible strides in the last few months. Examining my trauma with a clear and courageous eye. Confronting the incredibly complicated legacy of my relationship with my mother – and finally allowing myself to admit to the anger I feel about it. Being present with the uncomfortable feelings I have been accustomed to suppressing with a galloping host of coping mechanisms. Acknowledging how that has left me cut off and estranged from myself. Recognizing this is happening all the time, not just in response to relationship triggers.
And this has been very challenging. It has required a focus and change of perspective along with a willingness to persist in the face of considerable discomfort. I suppose it’s not all that surprising that part of me wants to believe I am nearly ready to crest a hill and celebrate my victorious accomplishments.
Hamilton Mountain, out in the Columbia River Gorge is notorious for its false summits. There are no less than 3 places on the trail that appear to be the top, but aren’t. I took this hike with Enzo almost 7 years ago and never actually made it to the peak. It is a long and challenging climb, and by the time I hit the 3rd bench and couldn’t identify the trail that continued up to the top, I said fuck it and called it a day.
Even still, the view from where we stopped was breathtaking. It was an accomplishment getting there and I was well-rewarded for my efforts. That being said, it has never stopped niggling the back of my mind that the hike was ultimately incomplete.
I feel like I am at the false summit of my emotional work. I have come a long way. I can see the tangible ways my life has improved and my progress is meaningful. The Fool simply reminds me of what I already know instinctively; as far as I have come, the journey is still underway. That taking time to rest and recover is important so that I may continue to climb.
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