I am definitely a creature of habit. When I take my daily hikes, I traipse along one of four trails, usually the Ocean View Trail at John Muir’s famous national park Muir Woods. But this week, after the sky dumped loads of rain, my favorite trail was closed. I stood there in front of the yellow barricades, feeling perplexed and a wee bit pissed. How dare they close my favorite trail? Disoriented, I wandered a bit aimlessly, going in circles, until I ambled upon a trail I had never taken. Feeling a bit of trepidation, I questioned whether to embark upon a new journey.

The New Path Makes Me Nervous

Where would it take me? How far would it go? Would there be unforeseen obstacles? Too much mud? Another trail closure? Would there be rivers I couldn’t cross or downed trees I couldn’t get over? I know the other trail like it’s my own home- no surprises and guaranteed beauty. But this new trail? Well, it could be full of daggers- or it could be full of mystery.

Standing at that fork in the path, I ventured forth. What the hell! The Universe was telling me it was time for a new trail. Although it was out of my comfort zone, I stepped forth, and within minutes, I was in this gorgeous redwood glen with the newly topped-off river rushing through. Then the trail began to climb, gently up the hill, from the redwood bases to the tippy tops of the trees, until I was standing with a birds eye view of my favorite trees. Cresting the ridge, I saw fog creeping in and out between the pine needles, leaving tendrils of mist behind like spider webs. Then, all of the sudden, the sun broke through and poured forth one of those spotlights of white light into the forest (I call them God Beams). The God Beam was shining upon this one spot on the trail before me, beckoning. I walked further and stepped into the spotlight. When I did, a warm feeling rushed through me. I stood, eyes closed, marveling in the sudden immediacy of God’s bountiful love and nature’s ever-present miracles.

Do We Miss Opportunities When We Fail to Step Out of Our Comfort Zones?

It got me thinking. How often do we become such creatures of habit that we fail to step out of our comfort zones? Because one path is comfortable, we walk the same one every day, time after time. It’s not until something blocks our path that we’re forced to take the road not traveled. Then, forced onto another path, we suddenly find ourselves in the radiant light of brilliant new change.

What if, instead of getting pissed at the obstacles, we accept what is and simply walk a new path? What if (even braver), we choose to walk a new path even if no obvious obstacles exist? What if we’re simply open to exploring new adventures, new directions, new possibility?

Today, I’m going back to Muir Woods, and instead of walking either of the trails I usually walk, I’m going to seek out a whole new one. I wonder what miracles await me this time.

What about you Pinkies? Are you creatures of habit? Are you willing to bust out of your comfort zone and go exploring? What aspect of your life needs to be stirred up? How could a change of scenery light your path?

The Road Not Taken

I’ll leave you with one of my mother’s favorite poems:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

-Robert Frost

Taking the fork in the road (and mustering up my courage),

Lissa