EPISODE 9: THE RISK OF ‘THE RETURN’
Life is movement.
For 23 days I was in movement down the West Coast of America. This second Left Turn by boneshaker began just outside Seattle and progressed diagonally across Washington State to the northern entrance of the Astoria Bridge, which spans the Columbia River. It followed Highway 101 paralleling the Oregon Coast, eventually passing into California. A crossing christened by 4 flat tyres within 2 hours … the consequent descending of a large hill by foot first rolled-up by wheel … followed by 80kms on wobbly, patched tires in darkness lit by the light of my phone strapped to my boneshaker’s handlebars. The rocky shores of the Northern Californian coast — including the Avenue of the Giants which runs through one of Nature’s most Gothic of wood cathedrals — is possibly one of the most spectacular 1,000km one can feel at the methodical pace of 16kms-per-hour. I arrived in San Francisco after 1,536 kilometres traversed and 15,832 metres climbed (Everest is 8,848 metres high).
Along the way, I had moments of complete elation and exhaustion; A moment of near death … and was very fortunate indeed not to have; Moments of tempestuous pleasure skinny-dipping in cold, mountain rivers among bears.
One of my sisters and my brother-in-law were waiting on folding chairs on the sidewalk outside their home with a garland of oranges. A few days later the adventure continued. I switched back to 4 wheels, and Turned Left for a 3rd time. This time driving via rag-top back across the US through its Southern States to New York City. Had I finished in SF, the incomplete ‘shape’ of an L would not have been quite right … not as beautiful as the closed shape created when one ‘returns’. But, equally, there is risk in returning.
Which brings me to the point of this Episode: Adventures are risky since they create the possibility of self-honesty which isn’t always welcome.
When I arrived in Kirkland, WA, after ‘Turning Left’ for the first time, and before ‘Turning Left’ by boneshaker down the West Coast, my wonderful 87 year old Uncle underwent a life-threatening surgery. We spoke for an hour-and-a-half the day before. A conversation I recorded not knowing whether it’d be the last. I asked him a simple question. What does it mean — to him — to be ‘a good man’ (the topic of my current book). His answer: The genuine pursuit of self-honesty, since with self-honesty comes humility, creativity, care, joy … and agency! Characteristics that are essential for thriving in uncertainty.
You know when you’re being dishonest. You know that voice. You’ve heard it. But the less you’ve listened, the quieter it will have become until it’s no longer audible. Those who live with self-dishonesty live in a house of cards, as one dishonesty requires another to rationalise it. And thus the card house grows. Complexity is replaced with complicated. Resilience with high-maintenance. Defensiveness is the force holding the cards together. Dishonesty recruits others who will validate its behaviours and perceptions — much like the Truman Show, where everything is designed to maintain the delusion.
Which is why the most courageous, strongest, and riskiest thing one can do is not an action. It’s a word. A word that is prevented by most organisations, religions and totalitarian governments. The word is ‘Why’. Why acknowledges the possibility of doubt. And doubt fells the cards. Much safer — it seems — is to stand still … to be passive.
But no experience is passive. While experiences can ‘just happen’, they are not imbued with inherent meaning. Their meaning encoded by your brain is your response. Do you respond with thoughtfulness or panic with blame or ownership? It’s in the honesty of the response that reveals and creates you.
Adventure is to create a context in which you can respond … and in doing so make your implicit self explicit … if you have the courage to look honestly. Riskier still is …
To continue reading, please go here …
