I’ve never been a stellar cyclist. Balance has always seemed to elude me. One false move or glance and I’m wobbling all over the trail struggling to remain in the upright position. The best piece of advice I was ever given was this: Don’t look down at where you are, but ahead to where you want to go. Not just for cycling; this is a metaphor for living. More than ever, I’m learning to look ahead to where I want my life to go instead of looking at where I am now. If I look at my current situation, I can become anxious and full of doubt, making me lose my balance and risking a crash.
It’s not easy, but it is necessary. Hilary was fond of telling me that everything is temporary; nothing ever stays the same. Whether a season was good or not-so-good, she would just keep going until it changed again, despite her own anxiety and fears. I don’t know that I fully appreciated her tenacity at the time, but now I’m trying to follow in her footsteps. Grief can provide ample temptation to remain stuck and intentionally choosing to re-join life–even find some joy in it– can feel like betrayal, as if somehow you’re over it.
But I’m trying. Today it was a bike ride. A good friend had upgraded his bike and gifted me with his original ride. Although the saying goes “it’s like riding a bike; you never forget,” it took me a while to get the hang of it again. In my favorite park, I found my footing and actually enjoyed viewing the scenery as the gears clicked into place.
While I’m far from mastering changing gears, literally and figuratively, I’m learning. With a change in vocation, I’m navigating uncharted territory. Trusting my own instincts, learning from the experience of others and leaning into that still small voice are the markers that are guiding me into this new foray. Like never before, being vulnerable, quick to admit, I was wrong and I’m sorry, and setting healthy boundaries have become part of my daily existence. Each day has begun with the questions: What lessons am I going to learn today and do I have to learn them the hard way again? Strange as it seems, I look for Hilary in these moments. She was so chill when it came to making mistakes and owning them (eventually!), so I find myself wondering what she would do in the situations I’m finding myself in; what advice would she give. Funny, I never sought advice from her when she was here; I wouldn’t have dreamed of it. Now, however, I’m kind of in the world she once inhabited. One where pain, anxiety and defensiveness are the norm for my charges, I’m constantly wondering how she dealt with the incessant onslaught of emotions. In the still small voice in my spirit, I hear her two cents worth being thrown in: Remember mom; everything is temporary. Don’t get stuck in where you are, but where you’re going. You’re killin’ it, ma.
Thanks Hil; I needed that.
Yes and amen.