Making Waves
Wherever you’ve been, you’ve made a path. Walking through the woods, the tall grass, the sand; you can almost always look back and see the direction you’ve come. Some paths are more clear than others. Some are straight lines. Some twist and turn. Some end abruptly and start again in a new direction. And some are blurred by the surroundings — a wave on the shore might wash away your path in the sand, or the wind might overcome your steps in the snow. Nevertheless, you’ve made a path with your life, a path you can’t possibly make without being in motion.
I paused recently at the back of an ocean-going cruise ship. The sky was blue. The air crisp. The sea was calm and it slapped gently against the ship as it cut through the water. I walked along the top deck, passed several times by men with black socks and sneakers, almost twice my age. Pausing at the back, I was fixed on the path we’d made through the water. It went as far back as I could see. Close to the ship, I could feel the power of the engines, churning up the water behind us. Turquoise and white bubbles stirred among the darker colors of the ocean. It seemed to boil as more color came to the surface, propelling us toward our destination. This is where the action was. Busyness. Power. Motion.
The further out I looked along the path we’d traveled, the less color I could see in the water. The path was there at the surface, as far back as I could see, but it was faint. The further we went along the path the more things returned to normal. Less color. Fewer waves. Far less turbulence in the water. The contrast was striking– the path we traveled most recently, closer to the ship, was so distinct, but the further along the path we traveled, the less obvious it was that we’d been there at all! It wasn’t obvious that others have traveled by or intersected this path before us, either. But soon, there will be no evidence that anyone had been here before.
That’s the problem many of us have in looking for paths. Instinctively, we look back for evidence of where we’ve been instead of forward, in anticipation of where we’re going. Our path in the water was beautiful, but it wouldn’t have been there if the ship hadn’t kept moving forward. Walking to the front of the ship I could see open ocean — nothing in our way, nothing to limit us, and of course, I could see no path. The path was planned out by a big guy upstairs who had a map, a plan. He knew the dangers ahead of us, and how to avoid them. He knew how to navigate the open water; how to get us safely to where we were going, and how to cut the path we’d leave behind us.
It’s easy, isn’t it? It’s easy to look back and see the recent turmoil. It’s easy to see the white and turquoise bubbling up all around us. Economic worry. War. Family turmoil. Uncertainty. Long ago and far away it seemed so much easier. The path was less rocky, the surface more smooth. But the truth is, we’ve been here before. We’ve faced uncertainty before. We’ve had problems in our family, tough times at work, and we’ve experienced the world upside-down. But we kept moving. We continued to navigate ahead and as we got further away, the path began to fade into obscurity. We could see where we’d been, but we were much more caught up in where we are now, and where we’re going. The path ahead. You have to make waves to get there.
Peter Drucker said, “The best way to predict the future is to create it.” The only way you stop making a path is to stop moving. A surefire way to stop moving is to lose hope. And one way to lose hope is to stop making a path. I believe there are really only three paths we can take – the path we’re on, the path that could have been, and the path that will take us from here. You can get mired, even paralyzed in thinking about the path that could have been. It happens, but it’s not wise. Get over it. Instead, we should focus on the intersection of the path that we’re on and the path that will lead us from here.
No matter your age, we all stand at a crossroads at some point in our lives. We look for the right path to take, and then…..what? If we don’t move, we remain at the crossroads. If we move with hesitation and uncertainty, we risk wandering on the path with no real destination in mind. But if we boldly embrace the path, whether it’s a new path or the decision to proceed on the one we’re on with renewed energy and determination, we move forward with hope, trust, spirit and wild anticipation. We move. We make waves. We make a path. We live.
I’m not suggesting that we should forget the past. Go ahead and glance back. Celebrate it. Learn from it. Then move on. Did you leave marks on the path along the way? Children? Friends? Milestones? Personal and professional achievements that helped improve our world? Great! Paths will be born from your markers and the ripples from the waves you made will endure forever. Cool. Now get on with it. Don’t let your trail go cold, and the evidence of your path disappear forever.
So what do the signs offer at your crossroads? Do they suggest you proceed with caution? Are you encouraged to yield (or give way)? Does a sign encourage you to exit because there’s no fuel for fifty miles? Should you change direction for a rest area, the scenic route or to merge with other traffic? Or are you like Norm from Cheers, who, when asked how life was in the fast lane replied, “I don’t know. I can’t find the onramp”?
If you stand at the crossroads and don’t make a decision, in fact, you have. You’re standing still, not making waves, not making a path. If you don’t recognize that you’re at the crossroads, you’ve made a similar decision. But if you choose a new direction, a new path, choose boldly. If you choose to remain on the same path, do it with a renewed sense of passion and excitement. Be intentional. Invest in making your path and your path will invest you and your life in everyone around you.
Stop what you’re doing right now, just for a moment, and consider your plan. Do you know the path you’re on? Have you written down the directions for the path you expect to take from here? If you turned from the crossroads, your turn signal would indicate a change in direction. Are you turning? Do you know which way you’re going? Are you simply moving to the fast lane?
Consider this exercise (and please consider that it’s not a morbid thought– this exercise is not intended to suggest that your end is near as much as it is to perhaps better prepare you for whenever that might be). If you wrote your obituary/memorial notice today, and you asked your closest friends and family to do the same for you, would their view of your path synch up with yours? Is that the way you want your path to continue? If the answer is yes, well done. If the answer is no, do something about it. Write a plan. If your ship is going to leave a path behind it, what new water will you navigate ahead…and what’s your destination?
The water is boiling up behind us. We’re moving and we’re making paths. How we respond at the crossroads will define the path we’re traveling, no matter where the path has led us to this point. If you’re in the pit, don’t decorate. Commit to not staying in it long enough. If you’re at the top of your game, never lose sight that people are watching — this could be the finest hour of your legacy. If you’re lost, confused, hurting or otherwise challenged, remember that we’ve all been here before. The longer the path, the longer the time you travel on it, the less turbulence there is in the past. The colors blend. The turmoil subsides.
But you can’t move along the path without making waves.
