Often when something falls apart it’s because something better is waiting for us.
When relationships, events, or careers stop, or stop working for us, it’s an opportunity surface and take a breath. The point where our feet feel as though they are slogging through mud is an opportunity to stop pushing so hard. It’s an opportunity to look back along the path we’ve just traversed and evaluate its merit and value to our future.
Perhaps that path—the one we spent months or years creating— ends here.
Maybe the next chapter begins with a courageous step through the brush and into the dark forest on our right. The next path we create for our lives might begin somewhere on the other side of the faint babbling brook. The birth of our new chapter takes wing in a sunlit clearing.
To get there, we must leave this familiar, worn trail. We must enter the darkness.
Without a compass.
Without a map.
Without anyone to accompany us.
And this unfamiliarity and loneliness is what prevents most of us from leaving behind that which no longer serves us or our higher purpose. Our fear of the unknown keeps us tethered to a life that no longer works.
We crave familiar.
We crave comfort.
We crave safety.
But at some point, we recognize that whatever part of our lives is no longer working for us, it must be abandoned before it depletes us. Familiar doesn’t necessarily mean positive. Comfortable doesn’t always equate growth. And safe does not equal fulfillment.
The world is an imperfect place.
Our business fails. We drop out of college. Our marriage ends. We lose a good job. Friendships fizzle out. Family members stop speaking to each other.
We wonder how we ended up here. What we forget is that life is change. We are meant to grow. Things are meant to break, decay, cycle, and end. Weirdly, we are programmed to blame, to find fault, to analyze and hyper-analyze these broken promises and unexpected turns. We judge ourselves for the ending, despite the fact that everything comes to an end.
Why, in an imperfect world, do we expect ourselves to be perfect?
Most of us have little awareness of the heavy load with which we have burdened ourselves. Rather than a light, efficient backpack, we are dragging mountains of blame, shame, and guilt behind us. A weight that is figurative, but can be felt through the sorrow and pain in our hearts and minds.
We must practice gentle, but radical acceptance—the good, the bad, and the ugly.
We must also leave our past mistakes with our previous chapters, along with the places we knew, the experiences we had there, and potentially, even the people we met. Our journey forward will be all the more difficult if we carry the burden of the mistakes we made on our last adventure.
As we stand at the end of our path, we can turn 180 degrees, look back over the path we have traveled, and thank ourselves for this adventure. We can thank the people we encountered, thank our version of God for the opportunity, for each one of those experiences. Acknowledge all the pain, anger, fear, and frustration if things didn’t go the way that we hoped. Savor the joy, accomplishment, pride, and happiness we were gifted. We can process all of our emotions. And then we can release them.
And the most important step of all: We can fearlessly acknowledge the mistakes we made. Name them. Understand them. Vow to take the lesson from them.
That lesson is a small, but meaningful token of remembrance from that chapter. Polish your token. As you hold this souvenir in your mind’s eye, remember your vow to learn from the mistakes you made on this part of your journey. Remember the skills and experiences you gained. Reflect on the people you met. Remove your backpack, place this token inside. Gently lift your backpack, placing it firmly onto your back. Take a long last look down your trodden path. Whisper thank you. Leave your mistakes and penetrate the dark forest beside you.
Your next chapter awaits.
Peripheral View 