Ruts

Ruts.  Riding old logging roads, continuously scanning for the best line, I sometimes unintentionally fall into a rut.  If I try to white-knuckle myself out of it, I often end up losing balance and crashing as my wheels drag against the rut’s edge.  Through experience, I’ve learned that the best approach is to ride it out.  Stay in the rut, even if it requires extra concentration to thread my way safely through the middle.  Relax and keep going until a natural exit line emerges.  Such is life.  And last week I found myself in one those metaphorical ruts.  Our dog got sick.  My anxiety level skyrocketed.  These events were really not catastrophical per se, but to be honest, lately, it doesn’t take much to throw me off.  Tiptoeing through my days, desperately trying to not become unhinged.  How did I get here?  Maybe it isn’t even about what’s happening in these moments.  Maybe it’s about what’s happening in these moments re-awakening unpleasant boxed up feelings deep inside of me.  Past traumas resurfacing.  Maybe that’s the purpose of these ruts.  Maybe they’re meant to be pointers to the parts of me that need my love and attention.  Maybe they’re meant to highlight what still needs to be healed.  The dog is feeling much better.  And I am slowly coming out of this rut.  Maybe life isn’t about avoiding ruts.  Maybe it’s about becoming comfortable riding them out.  Ruts.