Next step: At the brow of the hill, take the path to the left until you reach the gate…
The instructions seem obvious until I notice several paths and realize that my initial assumption that the “brow” is “somewhere near the top” is not nearly precise enough.
I am walking the public footpaths in Kent, England and delighting in discovering a secret world. These paths are centuries old, they were once the only way to get to market or to town. Thrillingly, each one is designated as a public right of way. So no matter what has been built up since – farmlands, school yards, Downton Abbey-like estates or century-old cemeteries, these footpaths are maintained and remain open to anyone who wishes to pass, private property be damned.
I’ve just set out from the village pub (the little plaque tells me it was established in the 1300s – how cool is that?) and made my first successful climb over a fence, through a paddock full of bored-looking sheep and past some thatch cottages. I feel like a character in a novel as I discover the unseen backyards of England.
But this newest instruction about “the brow” is unfamiliar and I am unsure of my next step but it’s my preference for having ‘the right answer” that has stopped me in my tracks.
Wavering, I am incapable of choosing any path for fear that it will be the wrong one. And though I stand and look harder at my choices, the instructions, the sky, and one very large sheep, I am still stumped, I just can’t figure it out.
The situation feels strangely familiar.
I’m now realizing that this mirrors my decision-making pattern as I navigate midlife. The myriad of changes that come in my 50s have all required new paths and have often left me in this very position – unsure of what to order because I can’t eat spicy any more, how to choose the next retreat because I’m traveling solo these days, how to tweak my career because “retirement” just isn’t a thing, what to wear because I want to be hip but not ridiculous. In each scenario, I want desperately to do “the right thing” and get stuck in an uncomfortable limbo of indecision.
The minutes tick on and it occurs to me that my default choice of “no choice” is highly impractical. There is nothing to be gained by standing alone on a hill.
The walk is teaching me that these excruciating moments of perfectionism don’t serve me. Worrying keeps me rooted in this spot and destroys my enjoyment of the day.
The best I can do is choose a way forward, retrace my steps if needed and enjoy the view as I look out for the next milestone. Every choice brings momentum, discovery and the promise of adventure. There is no one here to judge my success, time my circuit or evaluate my achievement.
So, with no way of knowing if I am rambling in the right direction and without the needling voice of my self-critic, I put one foot in front of the other, encouraging myself to take this little risk and to be patient when course correction is needed. The ‘wrong way’ leads to a blackberry bush full of fruit and a vista so beautiful I stopped for a half hour and was inspired to write a song.
As I fall into a rhythm, I feel the increasing ease in making a non-perfect decision. Commitment to a path can come with a sense of intrigue and not foreboding, as can turning back and trying again.
Maybe navigating midlife could be the same.
This scavenger hunt which twists and turns through a secret part of the countryside leads me to the greatest find – myself.
My quest ends at the village pub where I gladly accept a celebratory pint.
As for the brow? I’ll leave it to you to discover!
-Tania
Tania Carriere, epiphany designer, leadership coach and founder of Advivum Journeys, hosts midlife transformative retreats where wayfinding is always on the agenda. A former Adjunct Faculty member and huge fan of the Modern Elder Academy, she is a keen student of the life lessons we learn as we travel and is happiest when she is in wonder and discovery. www.advivumjourneys.ca