I was given a bit of sagely advice during Driver’s Education training. I was 16, and, for the first time, sitting behind the wheel of the car with an instructor, cautiously making my way down a lonely road. I noticed some deer eating in a field to my right, and they drew my attention.
“Look straight ahead,” said the instructor. “You will always go where you are looking. If you look to the right, the car will drift to the right. If you look to the left, the car will drift to the left. Believe me, there’s nothing you want on either side while you’re driving. Keep your eyes on the road ahead of you and you won’t veer off course.”
How apropos. I’m pretty sure the instructor was focused only on the task of driving, but as I’ve aged I’ve come to understand the wisdom of those words. No matter what parcel of my life I revisit, it was always my focus that determined what direction I went. If I was focused on the trauma, I lived traumatically. If I focused on my pain, I would hurt. If I focused on my truth, I would walk in those fields carefree.
That is why I understand the power of my focus. Where I focus is where I go, and if I don’t want to go somewhere I simply need to retrain my focus on my truest intention. It’s not necessarily the destination I am focused on. Instead, it’s the path ahead of me, around me, beside me and in me that gains my attention. That’s where I’ve found the best magic breathes, and where I am my happiest.
That’s not to say that sometimes I don’t need to focus on the dark matter in my mind. There are times when that is what I wish to do, and do that I must. Yet, I always ask myself why I wish to go there, why I feel the need to respond to the pull of that dark gravity. The answer determines my next steps.
There are times when I need to feel the pain, whether emotional or physical. There is much value there for, as Rumi says, it is the bandaged place where the light enters. I don’t waste too much time complaining about this pain. Instead, I focus on the lessons that are offered there, the changes I must make for my emotional or physical well-being. Sometimes that pain is just a challenge, and I must used my inner wisdom to determine what the experience has to offer. Not every pain means it’s time to stop. Sometimes that pain is just a question unto itself, and the answer lies just on the other side of our response.
There are, always, moments when I need to experience joy. I believe the purpose of the valley is to expose the majesty of the mountain. Neither is very useful without the other. In fact, a valley without a mountain is what we call “the plains”, and indeed it is plain. I don’t seek to live in the plains. Give me the roar of an breaking ocean tide or the shadow of a mountain any day. I don’t mind the rise and fall of peaks and valleys, but the boredom of the plains would drive me insane.
Today here I am, on this road called June 11th, and I am intently focused on the road ahead of me. What is it I want from this day? What is it that I can facilitate in those intentions? What do I truly wish to see, to feel, and to experience from this scenic, mountain road and how do I overcome the obstacles sure to appear in front of me? I’ll take them as they come, but one thing is for sure. I will never get to where I want to go if I keep veering off the road chasing deer who don’t care to see me, or ending up in a lane not made for the direction I am going.
That, my friends, is the essence of a disciplined life.