|
Last September, my husband and I embarked on a journey we thought we were prepared for. A few days into our trip to Glacier National Park, we ventured out for a hike to Grinnell Glacier. A combination of AllTrails and local recommendations told us to prepare for a challenging, but rewarding 12 mile hike. For those who may not know, Grinnell Glacier contains ice chunks from the Little Ice Age that took place about 7,000 years ago. How amazing is that! The sad part is that these ice chunks are rapidly melting and will soon be gone forever. This was our chance to see something spectacular. Learn more about these glaciers here. Despite the cold temps and a bear siting along the way, the hike was pretty manageable…but as we climbed higher, it began to rain, which turned to sleet, and eventually, snow. When we reached the summit after a 4-hour trek, the view was completely blocked by a white-out snowstorm that had rolled in right before our arrival. The sky became dark and haunting thunder crashed against the mountain walls. We couldn’t see anything, most importantly, the glacier ice. There weren’t many people up there with us and it started to actually feel scary. Devastated (and freezing), we made the difficult decision to turn back down the mountain. About 15 minutes from the summit, we encountered another hiker and shared that we couldn’t see anything from the top. This friendly stranger shrugged it off and said storms often blow through quickly in these mountains and we may still have a chance to see what we had come for. It was time to assess: is hope actually within reach? Is it worth the risk? The insight provided stoked our remaining energy and we decided to take a big risk to turn back around and try again. Much to our surprise, the storm had indeed temporarily cleared and we could finally see the crisp, alpine water and the stunning view of glacial ice (as seen in the image above). To say it was a triumphant outcome would be an understatement. Trusting that sense in our gut (and a complete stranger) to risk further exhaustion and potentially the same outcome actually led to the most gratifying experience I have had in nature to date. As we marveled at the view, my hands were so cold that I could barely strike the lighter to start the camp stove for our hot meal. I have never been so cold, wet, and tired at the same time. But I have also never felt so accomplished and awe-struck. I continue to use the Grinnell hike as inspiration to take more risks and to remind myself of what I am capable of. As a reminder that turning back was an option, but so was pushing forward and trying again. (Sometimes, trying the same thing again is not the definition of insanity, but more so a fine-tuning of timing!) As a reminder that a hot meal, or nourishment of any kind, can really go far as a celebration for a job well done. A reminder that risk and reward are a popular pairing for a reason. Perhaps, you need some of those reminders as well. An important caveat here is that there are many more accessible risks than climbing a mountain that also reap great reward. Saying yes to a new social gathering, texting a friend you haven’t heard from in a while, starting to journal, exploring a local nature walk, trying a new item on the menu. What these all have in common is the expansion of your comfort zone for the sake of knowing yourself and others better. (With that said, if you are looking for a hiking companion, you know where to find me!) The more I reflect on taking risks, the more I have come to understand that so many of us live in fear of what might be asked of us if we took a risk. Sometimes, it can feel easier to mask the truest parts of ourselves, praying and hoping to be accepted, or at least, to fly under the radar. Therapy can be an ideal space to start lowering our masks and take the risk of being known. The risk of pushing beyond the bounds of comfort and into the abyss of the unfamiliar, where growth and self-awareness have room to thrive. Some questions I have been asking myself lately that may be helpful to you: How do I define my “comfort zone” and what would it mean to expand it? What happens if I don’t take the risks that feel reasonable to me? Is there a cost of maintaining the status quo in my personal and professional life? Do meaningful rewards even exist in life without risking being vulnerable and trying my hand at something new?
Mountain clarity: there is a time and place to pause, rest, and end a venture when it no longer serves its purpose. There is also a time and place to push on and take a new risk. Only you can determine the best path, but do not sell yourself short - the proverbial ice chunks will eventually melt and you could miss your chance to experience something awe-inspiring. If the opportunity presents itself, I can’t wait to see how you choose to proceed!
|
