The past few weeks have been a rather interesting experience. My days consisted of wandering around in the desert, climbing on small mountains. It was a rather impressive experience, considering that I've lived my life in the lush northeastern U.S. The desert was quite a change, not as barren as I had expected. That could be explained by the fact that I imagined the rolling dunes of the Sahara but was in 'scrublands' in Nevada.
Regardless, the terrain was impressive. Gentle rolling plains bounded by stark mountains. There was an amazing amount of brush. And though it was extremely rare to find appreciable bits of shade among the vegetation, it was not completely desolate.
The best part was wandering around on the mountainsides, climbing over rocks, avoiding the prickly little plants that grew in abundance. They seemed to wait until you put your foot down, then little pieces of fluff-sharp fluff-would drift into the top of your boot. Quite enjoyable. On the mountainsides there were no trails for hiking. It was finding paths over, down and around that occupied most of my time.
I would often stop to look ahead, trying to find the best way to go. What was on the other side of that ridge? Sometimes it was gentle, but not too often. Would it be better to go down now or go up and over and then go down? It always depended on the situation and how long we had been trekking. It wouldn't have been so bad if we were just out hiking. Instead, we were rock collecting, and carrying a pack full of rocks doesn't mean that you always go down and back up to cross a minor valley.
This 'path finding' applies equally well with the 'paths' I take through life. I am glad I had a chance to work on it, so to speak. It is extremely appropriate for me right now. It is summer, which means time to prepare myself for the upcoming school semester, catch up on my finances, and basically try to get the parts of my life that have been falling apart back in order. It has never been an easy thing to do: planning ahead, finding an appropriate path.
It took me a while to realize this connection between the physical action and the mental task. It reminds me of an event years ago. One time while I was working as a dishwasher I was having a particularly difficult evening. My station was getting backed up, and I was starting to get frustrated at the complete mess it was becoming. I stepped back from the station for a moment, literally, not just mentally. I was taking advice from the old adage about taking a step back from a stressful situation.
As a result, I got a better grasp of the situation. I saw that all I needed to do was organize a few things, and I could get the place back in order. Had I continued looking only at what was right in front of my face, I would've missed the bigger picture. I also would have been much more stressed. Instead, the night seemed to smooth out, and I enjoyed myself a great deal more. In this instance, my physical step back echoed the teaching in a way that reinforced it. This 'path finding' experience has done the same.
This year an incredible opportunity happened. My calculus professor went to a conference at one point during the semester. Instead of getting a substitute to cover material for us, he arranged to have a lady come in and teach a class on time management. For me, who has never been able to manage time, this was a blessing. I went and had a great time. The gist of what she said was to identify how you use your time now: When do you have free time, when have you dedicated time to specific things, classes, work, travel or whatever? Also, she instructed us to stop keeping everything we had to do-deadlines, projects, dates-in our respective heads, Write it down, so that you don't forget about it and you can plan time to work on it. With those two things, you can plan out your time so you use it more efficiently. It sounds so simple. Ever since that class I have tried to follow those ideas. So far it hasn't quite worked.
In looking at my experience on the mountains, I felt like the planning out there was very similar to the planning of my time. In both instances I had goals and obstacles. Only by identify both and planning ahead could I accomplish the one and avoid the other.
One of the first questions to ask is, 'what is necessary?' Out on the mountains it might be: Do I just want to get to the other side? Is there a specific path I need to follow? Do I need an easier path right now? Am I really worn out? Or in terms of everyday life: What needs to stay? What do I need to work on at the moment? Should I prepare for my courses next semester or concentrate on finding an appropriate job towards a career? Should I relax and take some time off, or do I start working on an exercise program? Do I travel and expand my horizons or consolidate my resources for the future? It is a question with so many parts. Where do I start from and when does it end? Are there 'right' answers? I don't think so; it is all relative.
If I can figure that out, then how do I get there? What is the path I need to take? Some people have the philosophy that you don't need to plot out everything. I agree with that to an extent. Plans should be flexible, open to revision at any moment, if they need it. Without a plan though, without a proposed path to follow, it is doubtless we would ever get to a destination. Everyone has some idea of how to get where they want to go, after all. That is all a plan is. Some people make elaborate ones; others keep it simple.
There are people who follow the idea of trusting in fate; that is their plan. If I believe and put myself out into the world, something will happen. I like this idea; it is very simple. But it means one needs to be ready to jump on opportunity, which is hard. I don't have that kind of trust, and I second-guess too much to be able to just leap onto a 'departing train'. So I take another approach. I try to make a plan for the immediate future. One that will get me moving and set up the kind of intentions I need to make things happen. At least, that is what I have been trying to do for a while. Like anything else, it is hard to do at first. And considering all the other things that happen in this life, sometimes it is easy to forget. Finding out there's an exam in two days that you haven't been preparing for. Your friend is being harassed by people you both know. It is bill time again. All these things pop up and throw us off balance. On top of that I get distracted easily.
But on the mountain there were not many distractions. I couldn't just sit back and relax, thinking that I could do it some other time. If I wanted to get somewhere, I had to move. Which means I had to look, plot, and act upon my decisions. It sounds like a very basic success formula, so simple. How did I miss this for so long? Distractions, a lack of concentration, a lack of need.
What do I mean by a lack of need? Exactly this: in day to day life I don't feel that I need to accomplish things to survive. At least, not all the things I want to. But on the mountains I needed to get back to the vehicle, back to civilization. While it wasn't life threatening, I saw that it could've been if I let it go too long. But in daily life, the survival need isn't there. I wrote further upon this idea of need a while back. I think I should go back and review that thought.
Circumstances like this remind me of two paths of learning: study and experience. While a theory may make sense when I read about it, that doesn't mean it is internalized. It certainly doesn't mean that I will remember it when the time comes. While experience doesn't guarantee that a lesson becomes a part of ourselves, when one sees the consequences of an action first hand, it becomes much harder to forget.
(Copyright 6/01/98 by David Langer - No reproduction without express permission
from the author)