Beyond Goals

Sometimes life forces you to stop. Everything you have been working on is put aside because there isn’t any other option except to halt in your tracks. This has happened to me, and it’s been a struggle to get back to work on this project.

First, it was the US election. I spent my time on political activities because my fear of what might happen was intense. Then I had to recover from my complete despair of the results because I knew my fears would come true (and they are). Finally, I broke my arm. It’s been a long recovery from that incident. This whole series of events has made me question what projects and activities I want to pick up again now that I’m back on my feet.

During all those sleepless nights when I could not even lay down because my arm was so unstable (in a sling, not a cast), all the answers I previously had for this climate-stressed time just slipped away. My solutions were gone. My goals vanished. I had no path forward. It caused me to remember a moment in time when I felt the same, decades ago. I had joined a wilderness survival class in the Jarbridge Wilderness of Northern Nevada, but we had to call it quits halfway through because a Memorial Day blizzard left us unable to fend for ourselves. We were starving and shivering—not the best indicators that we would survive.

We hiked out and our instructor devised some substitute adventures, including a visit to a lava tube cave. A lava tube is a formation where a magma flow in ancient times left a crust that cooled around a hot finger of lava. The core of molten rock flowed on, leaving a hollow cave. When we arrived at the cave, our instructor gave us a challenge: walk to the end of the cave and then return without any light. The goal was to find our way back to the entrance using the rest of our senses (besides sight) to determine whether we were on the well-worn path or not.

It was pitch black. I took cautious steps, analyzing whether the floor of the cave was flat or not. Before long, I realized the rest of the group was giggling and chuckling far to the right of me. As I crept along, I was sure I was correct. I was not tripping over small ridges and peaks in the floor made by the ancient lava crust. I was definitely on the path, but as time went on, I began to doubt myself. How could all of them be over there, instead of here with me on this smooth section of the cave floor? Perhaps I wasn’t on the pathway after all?

In the end, I made my way over to the group only to discover I had been correct all along. The section of cave floor they walked on was bumpy and hard to navigate. They laughed because they felt so awkward and slow. At first, I thought I should head back to the one-true-path, but I decided to join them, instead, as the group made their clumsy way to the front of the cave. In the end, we got there, inch-by-inch, unsure of each step. The mood was jovial.

This past spring, sitting in the dark of the night with my arm in a sling, I reflected on this lava cave challenge and wondered if my goals really mattered anymore? Back in the cave, was it important to find the one well-worn path to lead me out? Or was it best to join the group, having fun as we stumbled along? Either choice could be right because they both would get me to the entrance. I also realized my original goal to find the correct pathway had been too focused on the outcome. Enjoying the clumsy journey with my group, moment by moment, was actually better.

Perhaps we are entering the time on Earth when the individual goals we have aspired to don’t make sense anymore. I definitely feel it. Is there something waiting beyond my long-held personal goals for me to discover? Maybe many of you feel the same, especially in the US. If that makes you uncomfortable, here is a book for you.

Susan Bauer-Wu, in The Future We Can Love, captures some of this sentiment as she focuses not on data and science, but on “the power of our hearts and minds.” In one chapter she quotes Virginia Woolf who said: The future is dark, which is the best thing the future can be. Bauer-Wu follows that with this:

“I’m reminded again of what Joanna Macy says about uncertainty, how it is the best ground for the seeds of possibility to germinate, sprout, and grow.”

These remarks support my current mindset that perhaps I need to dwell in the uncertainty I find myself in right now. It could be a fruitful way to discover new paths and lessen anxiety around the terrible outcomes that might be lurking. Even if you are not in the same mental state as me—my inability to see around the next bend—this book has much to offer.

It includes a range of discussions about optimism, hope, heartbreak, wonderment, and action. Susan Bauer-Wu gathers perspectives across the spectrum from leaders in the field, including Greta Thunberg and the Dalai Lama. Some viewpoints don’t necessarily align with each other, but that’s good. This broad look at what will be needed (beyond the technological fixes) to fashion our future is very beneficial. I think everyone in the climate movement can find in this book something to relate to, something to inspire them, something to help them through rough patches.

When I broke my arm, I couldn’t even sit in front of the computer to write. I couldn’t post or work on my own climate fiction. Now, I am writing again, but the goals for my writing are up in the air. Do I publish books? Is that important? Do I even pursue this blog? Are any of the ideas I have raised in the Climate Story Garden resonant for me anymore? What will happen if I look beyond all those past goals that pushed me forward?

I am back in the dark of the cave, moving forward, inch-by-inch, waiting for those seeds of possibility to germinate, sprout, grow.