The path of not here
Wrong turns welcome
My niece was the first baby born after I felt like an actual adult. Nearly 17 years ago she showed up in our lives, forever changing everything, as my wife remarked one day, “Hey, maybe we should have one of those.”
She’s always been the kid of firsts—first to head off to grade 1, first to drive, and now, she is about to embark on a much larger step.
In a little over a year, my niece, who in my mind is still a foot and a half tall and licks the tops of honey containers when you’re not looking, will move out and go to university.
I just got back from a trip where we went snowboarding with this side of the family. At one point I ended up on a chairlift with her, which anybody who has teenagers will tell you is just about the only way to have a full conversation with one. I think it’s the threat of dropping their phone 30 feet into a snowdrift that really keeps the attention on the conversation. They say all sorts of things. I highly recommend it.
I’ve been interested in her experience because my eldest son is about two years younger, so she’s a wonderful canary in the coal mine of life. I asked her about how she felt about moving out into the big brave world, and her response was expected: “I am absolutely terrified.”
What perhaps wasn’t as expected was why she felt that way. It wasn’t the isolation of being kicked out of the nest, or facing the challenges of the world without a safety net, but rather it was the paralyzing fear of selecting the wrong school and major to study.
Tracking lions
I’m reminded of a particular section in The Lion Tracker’s Guide to Life by Boyd Varty. The author recalls a story in which he is being trained by two experienced lion trackers in Africa (worry not, the goal is guiding tourists armed with cameras, not rifles). They’re following prints in the sand, but at one point, the trail becomes overly complicated and they lose it.
“As paradoxical as it sounds, going down a path and not finding a track is part of finding the track. Alex and Renias call this ‘the path of not here.’ No action is considered a waste, and the key is to keep moving, readjusting, welcoming feedback. The path of not here is part of the path of here.”
This reframing, I’ve found, can be particularly powerful. In a world where we feel like every movement is dissected by a discerning audience of our peers, the very thought of making a misstep can be highly uncomfortable. But if the missteps are suddenly considered critical to the overall journey? Suddenly the missteps become important.
The lions are always moving
The lion tracking metaphor remains a powerful one in my eyes, because it simply fits so damn well with everything. The goal is not to track the lions to where they are right now, because by the time you arrive there, they will have moved.
The chaotic nature of existence means we’re never moving towards a stationary anything. How many people congratulated themselves on a job well done after organizing their affairs in February of 2020? Or how many finally decided to reward themselves with a vacation to stave off burnout, with a flight departing on September 12, 2001?
A rigidity in our direction is almost certain to fail as life steps in and plays its part. The universe does not take into account your plans, hopes, or dreams. To be uncomfortable with a path that meanders is to exist uncomfortably forever.
There’s always more no’s than yes’s
One of my issues with goal-oriented anything is that the binary path of “have you achieved the goal yet” is absolutely littered with micro failures, all leading to a singular success (which, upon success, triggers a new goal where you get to reset and begin with the failures again).
The same is true of any path towards something; you will spend 99% of your time course correcting and only 1% of your time locating what you’re after (should you find it at all). To become paralyzed the moment you turn over the stone only to find nothing is concerning, because most stones have nothing beneath them.
The “failures” teach the same as the successes
While failures and dead ends are common reasons people abandon ship, the truth is failure and success are just two sides of the same coin. The dead ends just feel worse.
Learning what isn’t the way and adding it to your list of understanding is critical in finding your way. When Edison was critiqued for his rapid-fire experimentation techniques while inventing the lightbulb, he remarked: “I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.”
Finding your way (eventually)
It’s easy to present a path to someone, have it take an unexpected turn, and feel like it was all for naught. What’s harder is to embrace the path of not here and accept its importance in getting us to where we need to be.
At a certain point, the time for careful consideration passes and all we’re left with is hundreds of potential directions that are far too complicated to forecast. It’s likely at that point that we need to simply dive in and begin finding the paths of not here.
When you’re a 17-year-old kid and you’re faced with what life path to take, it’s natural to be paralyzed by options because there’s simply so many of them. And what’s most uncomfortable? You’re probably right; almost all the paths won’t be the right way. You might walk the wrong path for years before finding your way.
But that’s not failure. That’s how it works. Sometimes all that’s left to do is flip a coin, sign up for some classes, grab a jar of honey for when things get scary, and find your way.