My time in the mountains this past week has been one of the best adventures I’ve had the privilege of experiencing – reshaping my opinion of Georgia completely.
And Tallulah Gorge State Park, you are a real beauty. Truly. But let’s talk about Overlook 10.
TGSP, let me start by saying that I appreciated the clean trails and air conditioned restroom facilities. THANK YOU for the benches and map and ample parking spaces. Inspiration Point was lovely – what a view. I was, in fact, so inspired by Inspiration Point that I decided to make the full loop around your park; and per the map, I walked 310 stairs down, crossed the suspension bridge, walked 376 stairs back up, and then traversed more terrain to take in the view from “Overlook 10.”
*** Side complaint, unrelated to Tallulah Gorge State Park: I was exhausted. It was very hot. I thought it would be a good day for…jeans.
Spending a lot of time in my head, I had a series of existential crises about my physical wellbeing and clothing choices. I had to face the reality that my cardiovascular health is not what it used to be when I was a *runner.* (To be honest, I’ve never actually been a *runner,* in spite of participating in the act of running. I don’t understand the point of running unless I’m being chased by bears or zombies. And the instructions regarding bears on the refrigerator of this mountain-top home clearly state that I should not run from them. I should only speak to bears in an assertive voice and back away slowly. Zombies are on my radar now more than ever. 2020 is wild.)
I’ve mostly enjoyed the journey up to this point, so I’m expecting Overlook 10 to be worth the additional time and effort. My expectations were pretty realistic – nothing epic, but a different view of the gorge below.
Finally I arrived, *cue trumpet fanfare* and Overlook 10 was *cue drumroll*……tree branches.
That’s it. That’s all I could see. Just…branches. And that’s when I realized that this was one of many Overlook 10 moments I’ve experienced in my life. I followed the map. I made the correct turns. I was cautious and mindful. I did not get lost.
(I know what getting lost feels like, both by car and on foot. If I had a dollar for every time someone said, “You can’t miss it,” and then I proceeded to miss it, I’d have enough money to buy myself a high-quality paper map.)
And yet, despite my fortitude and cautious navigation, my view was impeded by branches.
Overlook 10s are not bad decisions or wrong turns or missed opportunities.
They are not unrealistic expectations that go unmet.
There was no one to blame for Overlook 10 – not the Universe/God or myself or others or even Tallulah Gorge State Park; nature’s just doing what nature does.
Overlook 10s are doing everything right, and things still not panning out as you’d hoped.
Overlook 10s are broken promises after extending 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 20th chances.
Overlook 10s are the realization that things are not as you’d like them to be, through no fault of your own.
Overlook 10s are Moses never seeing the promised land.
Overlook 10s are disappointment.
My actual Overlook 10 on this particular day was a moment of comedic relief. It was not deeply disappointing. I actually chuckled out loud, and I kept chuckling as the “trail” back to my car included a swath of highway. The whole thing was amusing.
But I have had Overlook 10s that were not amusing, but heartbreaking.
They did not result in quiet contemplation.
And there was no laughter.
Past, present, future, there was/is nothing to do but keep going. As Anne Lamott says, “Left foot, right foot, left foot, breathe.” I am welcome to, and should, sit with the disappointment for as long as I need. Like all feelings, disappointment connects my internal and external experience, uniting my heart, mind, and body around my desires and values. Eventually, either on purpose or because there’s not really any other option, I just keep moving forward. I get to a place of acceptance for things as they are, rather than how I’d like them to be. The river of life carries me onward.
I took a few minutes that day to reorient. I reflected on my previous Overlook 10 experiences that did not end in laughter. I accepted the very real possibility that there will be more of these moments in my future, and they’ll likely be more be painful than this one. I sat with the knowledge that my kids will face their own Overlook 10s, too, and I’ll be powerless to fix them. And I welcomed the wave of gratitude that accompanied this awareness: I will be equipped to handle those experiences when they come. I have everything I need to navigate my way back home.
In a spiritual sense – I already am home, wherever I am.
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