Life’s lessons tackled through baby steps

CHASING DOWN THE MUSE

“You live by learning and you learn by living”

-- ELEANOR ROOSEVELT

Baby steps.

One way or another, life gives us lessons. Many times, these

lessons have been experienced by those going before us. The wisdom

gained is then passed on to us in adages that, often, we tend to

think of as trite simply because they are adages. Maybe it’s just me,

but I think most of us learn, not from the hard-earned advice found

in these sayings, but by doing.

Just take baby steps is one of those pieces of advice we hear over

and over. At about 8,500 feet on a recent hike up the steep slope of

Mt. San Antonio -- more commonly known as Mt. Baldy -- these words

popped up on my mental screen and began to take on mantra-like

qualities as we continued our ascent. Baby steps. One-two-

three-four, one-two- three-four. Just keep moving.

I thought how our daily lives are filled with baby steps, as we

continued our ascent up the mountain. Often the way is long and hard

-- filled with obstacles and side trails. Life is a steady course of

both anguish and wonder. We are often discouraged. (Here, I

envisioned a new license plate holder -- when the going gets tough,

the tough take baby steps -- and I laughed out loud.)

One-two-three-four. My baby steps matching my four-count breaths

in and out, I continued up the steep slope. Another adage appeared:

Remember the journey is the destination. This almost stopped me in my

tracks. How could it fit with the one-two-three-four of my

baby-stepping up the mountain? How did the metaphor transfer to life

itself?

I realized that I was plodding. Now, baby steps and the

one-two-three-four count are one thing, but plodding? Where’s the joy

in that? Where’s the aliveness that I associate with living a life?

Mary Oliver has written a poem on gratitude that my friend

Catharine shared with me recently. In it Oliver asks some questions

always pertinent to the journey through life. As I continued my baby

steps up the last 1,500 feet to Mt. Baldy’s barren top, I reminded

myself to keep these questions in mind.

What did you notice? The things of nature captured my attention as

always. There were fronds discarded and trod upon until they became a

“fabric” of sorts, a part of the natural carpet beneath our feet. I

noticed the neon-blue-tailed lizard whose name I thought to look up

later. I noticed the relationships people we met along the trail held

with each other.

What did you hear? The birds singing, the breeze in gentle

rustling through the pines, the clinking of trekking poles in

someone’s rhythmic ascent ahead of us, occasional laughter, the

crunch of rock beneath many boots, and the sound of the waterfall.

What did you admire? Those same relationships and the support for

each other manifest in so many of them. I admired the older couple we

encountered and his gentle caring when she stumbled and fell. The

deep blue of the sky brought forth a different kind of admiration and

appreciation.

What astonished you? My own caring concern when Mike’s muscle

cramps stalled him and my willingness to do what I didn’t want to do

in order to make it better for him. I had thought my own selfishness

far overshadowed this.

What would you like to see again? The blue-tailed lizard, the

forested trail up to the Ski Hut, the water over the rocks, the

lavender “snapdragon.”

What was most tender? Oddly, something “gruff” shares this spot

with the old gentleman’s caring for his wife. The handsome man

leading his friends up the mountain, while having qualities of drill

sergeant status, showed a wonderful interest in and eagerness for all

that he met on his path.

What was most wonderful? The feel of it all, the sense of being a

part of something bigger, and perhaps most of all that I could.

What did you think was happening? I thought that I was training. I

thought that I might be proving the adage about baby steps. What was

happening, though, was so much more. I found that I was constantly

awakening to the journey itself. I found that the sayings, while

reverberating in my mind, were also gaining solid ground in my wisdom

bank. Let’s hope that I can only remember.

Life is filled with many things. We should never cut ourselves off

from engagement with our surrounding, if we are looking for the joy.

This much I’ve learned. Joy is not always born of happy, comfortable,

easy moments. Joy often comes from the hard parts -- like baby steps.

* CHERRIL DOTY is a creative living coach, writer, artist, and

walker who lives and works in Laguna Beach. Contact her by e-mail at

[email protected] or by phone at 251-3993. Your comments are

appreciated.