Forks & Deviations

English: Fork in the path, in the Wyre Forest ...

English: Fork in the path, in the Wyre Forest Almost immediately after entering this part of the forest, the footpath divides into two. 1317685 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We all know those moments when we reach a fork on the path and must choose a direction or risk remaining on our knees in the dirt too terrified to make a decision.

Or worse, there are those whose decision is to turn around, to go back, to retreat.

Though going back is rarely the right choice I understand its attractiveness, its allure. It’s the warm bed you didn’t want to leave. It’s the curtains closed and the television turned up so the world is reduced to programed pixels. It’s all your decisions shoved into the closet so you don’t have to see them.

The decisions remain, even if you don’t open the door.

Some believe that climbing into a box ceases communication. Nothing could be further from the truth. Within that box you’re message is clear: you don’t want to communicate.

I know it applies to decision making because I’ve tried it. (Well, okay, not the box part…more of a symbolic box.)

The decisions in the closet remain whether you look within or not. They’re excellent at waiting. They waited for me, in some cases, for years. They obviously don’t eat, though they grow. Not once did I see them sneak to the bathroom. That’s impressive.

Perhaps there are those who believe I’m brave because I survived a great illness and am pursuing my writing ambitions? Well, I don’t see myself that way. I’m more the heroine who’s so scared she can barely stand over her wobbling knees. Yes, she finds the will to advance, weapon in hand, to face the lurking decision monsters, but she possesses no special abilities. It’s what she does to survive. It’s what she does to be alive.

All of which takes me back to that fork in the road on my wobbly knees…

Not long ago I wondered how often my path splits and I realized that in a sense my path is forking on a continuous basis. I don’t need dramatic pathway diversions if I treat each step as a choice to move forward. Too, no walls parallel my course so I’m free (empowered) to step off my path and start a new one.

In so doing I must brave the thickets, but that’s where the discoveries are made, where the true adventures are found. And my steps are lighter because I know back home the closet is empty.

Let’s all keep those big forks to a minimum and recognize we can break the seemingly “too large to handle” decisions into smaller steps. Any opinions on the topic?

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