The Path is the Goal
I’ve been repeating four words to myself, over and over, this week. This is the path. (At first, I wrote that I’ve been repeating three words to myself. Apparently, brain fog and inability to count are part of my path.)
I don’t know whether it is true that every person has a grand destiny or super specific mission that only they can fulfill, but I do believe that each moment of our lives—including the really awful ones—have something to offer us. And so, each moment of my life is part of my path—part of my lifelong journey to become the most compassionate, authentic, and awake version of me. This journey isn’t about reaching a destination. It’s about experiencing every step. As it is sometimes expressed, the path is the goal.
So, when my five-year-old threw yet another epic tantrum this week, I whispered those words to myself: This is the path. When I sliced my finger wide open on a tuna can, I said them again. When chest pain and palpitations reminded me of my limits, I turned to those same words.
“I hate this f$%&ing path,” is another thought that has occurred to me more than once.
But the path isn’t all roots, rocks, symptoms, or sickness. It’s also the tree canopy, the wildflowers, and the unexpected vistas. It’s the feeling of the earth greeting your feet and the air kissing your skin. It’s the precious moments of snuggling with my tantrum-thrower or sharing a smile with a stranger. It’s the relapses, but it’s also the reprieves.
In Pema Chodron’s When Things Fall Apart—the most impactful book I’ve read since falling ill with Covid-19—she writes:
When something hurts in life, we don’t usually think of it as our path or as the source of wisdom. In fact, we think that the reason we’re on the path is to get rid of this painful feeling. . . . At that level of wanting to get rid of our feeling, we naively cultivate a subtle aggression against ourselves.
This “subtle aggression against ourselves” takes many forms. It’s the voice in our head telling us that resting instead of working somehow makes us less worthy. It’s the inner naysayer, insisting that we can’t experience happiness until we experience the full return of health. It’s the self-critical glare at our waistline when we stand in front of the mirror. It’s the tendency of our eyes to focus on where we want to be—on where we are not—rather than on the present moment.
When I repeat my current mantra—this is the path—it reminds me to be gentle with myself in this journey. It reminds me to open myself to the magic, the beauty, and the growing pains of the present moment. It reminds me to stop wasting my precious energy on wishing for something different and instead use my finite energy to learn, love, and grow within this reality.
If you read my last email, you know that some of the realities of Corona Cafe are changing. A handful of you have already subscribed to become full members, and many of you have reached out via email to ask for a complimentary membership. I’m so glad! For those of you who don’t choose to subscribe, I’ll still send a monthly newsletter your way. And for those of you who are stepping into the next phase of Corona Cafe with me, I’m so excited to be on this path together—beauty, magic, growing pains, and all!