My dog Ori and I walked towards our usual pine tree-lined footpath. We were met with a temporary sign that read "footpath closed." A massive storm had passed through a few days before, so it was safe to assume that a tree fell down or maybe a little landslide had occurred. I like this footpath and didn't feel ready to turn back. I reckoned that if the path were seriously dangerous, a bit more than a mobile sign would be in place to keep pedestrians away.
I was right not to let the "closed" statement deter me from continuing on our route. Yes, a tree had fallen over the concrete pathway, but next to it, on the dirt and grass along the side of the road, intrepid walkers before me had created an alternative path. Ori and I enjoyed our route as usual, with a slight detour, but this time, I left the footpath with a bit more food for thought.
It could have been easy to stop at the sign and turn back. I considered it but ultimately decided that the choice to continue was mine to make. To take the chance ... see what was on the other side ... not let the words on the sign stop me.
The people I walked past and greeted on the footpath that morning had likely also experienced a yes/no moment when confronted with the closed sign. I began thinking about how we all make choices for ourselves or allow others to make them for us.
Someone else can block a potential journey by telling us, "that's not for you" (the footpath is closed), or we can create the same sentiments for ourselves.
That's not for me right now.
Not for me ever.
We create some kind of internal warning sign that closes the pathway to the very thing that's calling us. We think we're being safe and reasonable, but are we actually acting in our best interest? How many "warning signs", self-imposed or otherwise, do we obey due to fear of what's on the other side, like what people may think or what might change in our lives?
What if we got better at discerning for ourselves instead of assuming someone else's worst-case scenario—even if that someone else is a little voice inside our head?
Last month, I participated in a DJ training/competition called Your Shot, and it felt life-giving. About one year ago, I realized that I had been putting up a "closed" sign to my curiosity and fascination with mixing and producing music. I hadn't realized that for most of my life, I'd told myself, "that looks awesome, but it's not for me." I don't know where the imaginary giant do-not-cross sign came from, but I do know that once I saw it, I couldn't let it stay or stop me.
Music has been a huge love, but it started to feel like medicine around four years ago. Song lyrics took on new meanings, and my relationship with music's energies and universal language has transformed tenfold.
In removing the sign from my internal dialog, I chose to say YES to my energetic spark to 1) learn to play with music like never before and 2) bring dancing back into my life (outside of my bedroom, that is).
Now, there's no going back.
I can't un-feel what I felt during the YourShot journey and event weekend, which was utter joy.
On the way home from my walk with Ori, I felt like a version of myself to be excited about. A version that was finally able to see the sign on my path that said "closed to any curiosities about playing with music" and chose to respond with "thanks, but no thanks — my curiosity and inner strength are stronger than any fears I have around what's on the other side of you."
And guess what? All was well. I forged a new pathway through the block just as my fellow pedestrians forged a new path around the fallen tree to get where they wanted to go.
We get to decide which side of the sign to live on.
