The Lookout Point

I've been thinking about a dear friend who has an unfortunate view on progression in life. I remember a poignant conversation I had with her where she expressed her despair that no matter how much she worked on letting go of negativity, forgiving, or changing, she'd never reach a point where she was "done." The way she saw life, the more she worked on changing things or improving herself, the more she would find to work on, and she thought the effort was pointless. I could hear the grief and sadness in her voice because she felt she would never be the person she wanted to be. She had, it seemed, given up on ever achieving progress because she would never find a finish line.

After this conversation, I was duly depressed. I remember feeling extremely sad that she couldn't see her life the way I see mine. We'd both taken a class in emotional health, but what we'd walked away with was extraordinarily different. Here is my life philosophy about progression and change.

Imagine you're on a hike. You're walking or climbing a hill and eventually you reach a "lookout point." At this moment, you get a break. You've reached a point when the road levels out and the vista is incredible. At this point, you also have a choice. You can approach your hike with the attitude of getting to the top of the hill, or you can pause for a moment to look around at the trees, landscape, and far away cliffs. As you look around, and pause for as long as you want, you'll probably see a broken fence a little ways up the cliff. You were planning on hiking farther anyway, so when you choose to keep climbing, you stop at the fence to mend it. Once the fence is mended you're free to look up the path and see another lookout point. On your way to that lookout you may clear the path and clean out some underbrush. And then you reach another lookout point. From this perspective, the landscape is even more breathtaking. Looking down the path you see a well-mended fence, a clean path, and looking out and up you can see white-capped mountains, herds of deer in meadows, or listen to birds singing above you. Once again, as you're looking around you'll probably see some burned trees that could use clearing, so you set off again. With the trees cleared, you might free up a clogged stream or help a wounded animal. And a little farther up your path you'll find another lookout point.

I'll bet you can see where this is going. You continue your journey, at your own pace up the mountain. Lookout points always follow strenuous climbs and expended effort. You'll always find something out of place a little further up the path, but it's your choice when you move on from the lookout point to go mend a fence or clear a stream.

I find that it's easiest to give up at the beginning of the climb. Your body is adjusting to the effort, in my case I'm probably not breathing and feeling excruciatingly nauseous. The lookout points don't have extremely inspiring views near the bottom of the mountain, and the underbrush and trees can seem overwhelming. But I've never made a climb that I didn't find worth it in the end. Sometimes all we've got to hold onto is the fact that the view is always better farther up. When we're first setting out, it doesn't seem like we'll ever get out of the woods, but we always do. And those woods can be filled with astounding discoveries, incredible silence, fantastic creatures, and surprising paths.

As I thought about my friend, I thought about her desire to reach the end, to make it to the top of the mountain. Think about a hike where you've made it to the top of the mountain. You finished the climb, conquered every obstacle, and you're on the top of the world. But where can you go next? At the top of the mountain the only way to go is down. This led me to think about the phrase "if you're not progressing you're regressing." Some might interpret this and think that they can never pause at a lookout point because "if I'm not constantly putting one foot in front of the other, I must be walking backward. If I'm not moving forward because I'm mending a fence, I must be falling down the mountain." How false! That's not how physics, or momentum, or hiking works! As long as there's trail left to be climbed, you'll keep climbing the mountain at your pace! It's when you think you've reached the top and see no where left to go that you're likely to turn around and go back! After all, there's nothing left to see!

Here's a little advice. Stop at every lookout point (and sometimes in between them), and give thanks for increased vision. Be grateful for the path you've already walked that now has mended fences, clear running streams, and smooth trails. Look with joy at the imperfections ahead that give you something to work for, motivation to keep climbing, and the success of hard work that makes the next lookout point feel so welcome and exciting. You'll probably never make it to the top, and that's better than okay because you'll always have something new to look forward to!