I recently took a few weeks away from all my local and further-afield goings-on to experience a genuine risk-taking expedition that involved extending myself physically, mentally, and emotionally. I engaged in eight days of strenuous hiking where the only “trails” meant following my wife’s GPS with a good chance that there might not be any connectivity, as where we were headed was so vast and remote. So, among many other things, there was a much-heightened sense of “not knowing” and having relatively little control or advance notice of what was forthcoming on these 10-to-12 miles of daily hikes in two incredibly rugged and extraordinarily beautiful areas. We traveled to Fort William and The Isle of Skye in Scotland, and The Lake District and London in England. So, that’s the scene.
I’m an avid hiker, as is my wife. We’ve done long trails in various countries over the past 20 years. So, reflecting on our past experiences and with her support, I selected two four-day hiking adventures that were rated “Moderate/Strenuous” (rated as five points on a six-point scale). When one is engaging in exposed physical activity, there is always risk involved. In this case, I’d add high challenge and a tremendous sense of not knowing. Still, we were upbeat and excited to take this on and live it fully.
When one is traveling outside of one’s comfort zone/s, one is well advised to know that they must relinquish a certain amount of control over their (new) environment, schedule, routine, even their sense of groundedness. I’ve experienced this “loss” so many times during my travels and travails over the course of my life. Yet, there is always a psychic and emotional change in this process of letting go and going with the present moment only. The comforts of home are just that — comfortable. I’ve always thrived in getting out of my comfort zone and seriously enjoy taking on novelty, and I am not risk averse (though I try to be very sensible about this).
When one lets go of this ongoing sense of control over one’s self and environs, what replaces it? Well, before too long, I came to sense that words like chaos, confusion, fear, and even dread (especially after my wife had a series of small accidents as we went on our way) found their way into my daily lexicon and psyche. It turns out that not knowing and having a sense of equanimity can become oppositional and conflictual with one another. This was much more of a heavy lift than I had anticipated, despite my extensive pre-trip research. Even a morning hike along the so-called “Coffin Trail” stirred up unnecessary imagery.
With all this in our daily life experience, what we had going for us was our intrepid sense of adventure, our resilience, and our understanding that being vulnerable is an opportunity for growth. And, we had one another.
If we saw five other hikers over the course of our eight or nine hours of hiking per day, that was almost a crowd. But when we did cross or temporarily align our path forward with others, they appeared almost as miracles, in our midst, or hiker guardian angels who offered some intangible support to impel us forward in moments of concern or questioning. These moments mitigated the struggle between wanting more control and continuing to learn how to let go of it, at the same time. We became severely dependent on our phones to maintain their power and to hold to all these miles of virtual trails, often without markers of any kind.
Examples: An Italian fellow appeared out of the mists not once but twice and corrected us on our steps when the GPS wasn’t giving us any information. At another moment, a young Israeli fellow waved to us as we struggled mightily to figure out how to ford an 80-foot wide rushing river and guided us walking into and through it, then disappeared. A lovely waitperson offered and made us generous lunches (with plenty of freshly smoked salmon!) to hike with when we had to depart only 10 minutes into the early breakfast service. All were precious and propitious moments and gave us all the impetus we needed to move forward during our moments of small crises of confidence and competence.
As always on other trips and adventures, there was plentiful learning, re-learning, and personal growth for each of us. For one, I practiced daily the concept of maintaining composure in the face of not knowing where we’re headed and staying “in the moment.” Another includes embracing some degree of discomfort, or even temporary chaos, believing and trusting that all will sort itself out given time and patience. Third, becoming comfortable with letting go of control at every decision-making juncture: the path leads us where it leads us, and we simply learn to follow in an open-minded manner. Yet another (re)learning is to be at greater peace with ambiguity without having to force the commonly felt need for clarity prematurely. All of this comes together in Emily Dickenson’s statement, “I dwell in possibility.”
For me, the time shared hiking abroad was about that and learning to function well in a liminal state. What an extraordinary opportunity! The expedition may be over and may become the stuff of memories, but the challenge to embrace this sense of not knowing (and running with it) continues onward.
Daniel Cantor Yalowitz, Ed.D., writes a regular column for the Recorder. He in an intercultural and developmental psychologist and writes about issues focused on human and civil rights, human values, and his ongoing commitment to create a better world for us all. Reach out to him at danielcyalowitz@gmail.com.