Walking into the unknown

“The opposite of faith is not doubt, but certainty.” – Anne Lamott

Walking in darkness is a metaphor used in many faith traditions. It means to keep the faith even when we can’t “see” the outcome. A few weeks ago I went on a solo hike at Cascade Head, needing nature therapy and movement to shake out some frustrations and fears. Cascade Head is situated near the coast and in the past, I’ve been lucky to hike it on clear days that afford incredible views of the ocean and the coastline. 

On this day, it was sunny and about 70 degrees at the trailhead and within minutes I shed my sweatshirt, stashing it behind a tree. As soon as I emerged from the lush Sitka spruce forest into the prairie grass headland, the wind whipped up and the fog engulfed me. I trudged on, head down, hat pulled low and tight after the wind lifted it off my head once…pissed off for not keeping my sweatshirt, and feeling sorry for myself that I had to endure cold and uncomfortable hiking conditions. 

As the trail steepened and my lower limbs grew weary, I kept looking up to the “summit” wondering how much farther. The fog sabotaged my visual efforts each and every time. I knew it was there but couldn’t see nor remember how close it actually was. Stubborn me, I kept going, misery lacing each step. I knew there was a lesson lurking somewhere in this hike. So, I plodded on and on. Once I read we must sit with our pain long enough to learn what it has to teach us. The fogged-in summit illustrated in sharp irony the present liminal space I find myself in. 

We can walk in light rather than darkness, but still not see what’s on the other side. Daylight is less scary than the dark, but our view can be obscured by fog. How can we navigate the fog, the unknown, during the trying times? Brené Brown in her book The Gifts of Imperfection writes about the importance of cultivating faith and intuition. For me, this practice is paramount when muddling through liminal space. 

Cultivating faith and intuition is a personal journey for each individual, but I do believe a few things are universal in this practice: Eliminating distractions so we can hear our inner voice/get in touch with our soul so we can truly know ourselves. To listen and pay attention to our own voice of wisdom. Glennon Doyle calls it “praying attention.” It’s a commitment because it means prioritizing some time alone and practicing mindfulness. 

Our culture talks a lot about self-care, which I wholeheartedly embrace. But I prefer the term soul care. Sure, taking a nap or getting a pedicure is wonderful self care, but does it help us know ourselves? Does self care strengthen us for daily struggles of modern life? I don’t know. 

Soul care helps us cultivate self knowledge, faith, and intuition, which nourishes us when we soldier through the fog of liminal space and uncertainty. I have to remind myself the unknown is full of possibilities. It’s illuminating to explore some “inner” field trips with yourself. Ask the questions. Wonder. Get quiet. And release the grip on the addiction to certainty.

Our culture constantly presents us with addictive preoccupations. We all battle them. Have you ever considered what your addictive preoccupations are? It’s a humbling first step. Once we can identify one, or more, we can be intentional about trying to set a boundary, at least for a period of time. Removing distractions is imperative to clear the runway for an inner field trip. 

Are you ready? Let’s go and let go.