You have to push hard, do hard things. But you also have to be able to say, ‘OK, today’s not the day.’

~Alex Lowe

 

There is a quiet truth we often ignore: if the process empties us, the outcome won’t save us.

Who likes running when it’s raining to get in the miles, especially after a long day at work? Who likes waiting until the heat of the day to ride their horse? What parent enjoys sleeping with one ear open, waiting to hear their child come home, or a doctor on call when they would really rather be having a glass of wine and dinner with friends?

We all do things we don’t enjoy, yet hopefully the bigger picture balances out the less-than-pleasant times.

The rider who trained in the heat was unaffected by it when they competed, the runner who got in the miles was able to finish the race they started, the parent who worried about their child was proud of that child’s accomplishments, or the doctor was rewarded when they were able to save a life.

We must discern the difference between productive discomfort and soul-draining misalignment. We glorify perseverance, rarely pausing to ask whether the path we are pushing toward is indeed the one we want. To be successful also means to sacrifice, but to be successful just for the title, the badge, the medal, or the kudos may not be worth it. Joy is an essential component during the doing. If it is not, then in the wise words of Bob Newhart, “stop it.”

A healthy challenge expands us, even if it is uncomfortable. Whereas, self-betrayal contracts us even if it earns us praise. We must ask whether there is a spiritual cost to chasing identity over presence.

This is when our intuitions and the energetic body come into play, calmly signaling whether the effort is aligned or simply habitual. Rather than words, they speak in sensations, and if we listen, we will find ourselves nudged toward what nourishes us.

When we compulsively desire to become something or attain a certain status but dislike the process of doing so, we miss the moment of just being. The illusion of arrival robs us of the joy in the journey of our becoming.

If we reframe how we look at the process, we may find guidance in understanding some of the signs. Joy is an energetic signature for alignment. Discomfort is a teacher, and misery may be a signal to stop.

The doing isn’t always easy, yet it must be enlivening. If the process drains you of your life force, the outcome won’t restore it.

After competing in endurance for many years, I hit the end of my rope. It had stopped being fun. It instead became arduous, driven by statistics, less about the connection with my horse and more about the requirements the horse needed to meet. The doing had become drudgery, and I had lost my mojo.

So, I stopped. I did not stop riding; instead, I returned to it for pleasure, for the joy of my horses. I took their shoes off and let them chill, too. I rode with friends and alone to recapture what I had once loved about horses, exploring trails I had long wanted to ride.

Not too long after, a few friends asked for help conditioning for events they wanted to do, and that was satisfying—no pressure on my horses or me. Then, 10 years into my retirement, I received a call from a friend who wanted to start training for a big event and asked me to join her. She had a new horse she couldn’t ride, but wanted me to ride that horse while she rode another. I thought for a moment and said, “Yes, why not?”

When I returned to the sport I had loved, the passion returned with me.  At one point, doing hard things felt like it was building me, until the doing no longer aligned with who I wanted to become. Stopping and taking a breather was a reset.

I was able to return with fresh eyes and an open spirit, approaching it from a relaxed, no-pressure attitude.

That was over 4 years ago. I ended up buying my friend’s horse, the one she couldn’t ride, and as life has it, this mare, Sheba, has become one of my great teachers. If I had not taken the moment to realise I needed to step away, I probably would not be where I am today. Back entirely focused on Sheba, and what we can accomplish together.

The bottom line is, nothing is forever. We can stop, we can start again, or we can leave it for good. The only thing that matters is that, while we are engaged, we are energetically rewarded. There comes a time when the effort we admire becomes the effort that exhausts us, and that moment deserves our attention.

The hard things in life, the things you really learn from, happen with a clear mind.

~Caroline Knapp