In pursuit of comfort and stability

Not too long ago, I was on a path.

I felt like I was doing the right thing, the smart thing. And while it had its challenges, I reminded myself that’s how life goes. All the books say that to succeed, you know where you want to go. You make a plan. You get on a path.

I had doubts occasionally, as one does, but friends and family reminded me that’s normal. We all get nervous or scared at times. But having a path to rely on and get back to can give you a sense of comfort and stability.

And I had always wanted comfort and stability. Desperately.

So on the path I stayed.

But while it looked proper, it felt hollow; appropriate yet somehow wrong, like a uniform you’re required to wear but it doesn’t quite fit.

Well, as the story goes, I went off that path.

(For the record, if we didn’t get off the path—whatever that might be—there would be no story.)

Getting off the path was not part of my plan. And it threw me into a tail-spin.

When things don’t go according to plan, we tend to spend varying amounts of time on shame, confusion, anger, blame or self-flagellation. We feel like a failure for not coloring within the lines like we’re supposed to. It’s exhausting.

Some people, however, manage to hop right over to acceptance and making the best of it. Perhaps their inner guide is particularly loud, or perhaps they, through struggle and awareness and growth, have learned to listen better, to understand their true self.

That’s the state of mind and actions we could (should) strive for.

I am in awe of them; they are my heroes.

After weeks and months and years of waging internal battles, I’m finally hovering near acceptance and making-the-best-of-it.

And it feels amazing. Surreal.

It’s so far beyond the good or bad, the should I or shouldn’t I, the what ifs and what if it doesn’t; it’s a kind of calm inner knowing, a step closer to my own truth.

The best thing about having a plan and being on a path is the feeling of solid ground under your feet.

But here’s the thing: Life (usually) has other plans. Life changes. It pivots. It shifts.

And when it does, there may be many moments when you feel like there’s no solid ground to be found.

Accepting things as they are and making the best of them forces us to be more aware, to confront all our “best laid plans” and realize how often they didn’t work. Instead they ask us to place trust in the unknown and what unfolds.

One of the toughest inner struggles we face is between planning (wanting certainty) versus unfolding (accepting that there is no certainty, and the necessity of moving forward knowing that).

M path with its plans had a purpose. I felt like I fit in, that I was doing what I should.

But that path, as appropriate and accepted as it seems, led to questions I didn’t know how to answer, or answers that felt deeply wrong.

So now I try to accept what is and make the best of it, plan what I can in parts that make sense, and trust the rest to unfold as it will.

And I’m finding there is a sense of comfort and stability in that.