I was hiking the trails at Ault Park with my dog Freya. It was cool out and the leaves were bright yellow. We have been walking these trails a few times a week for years, and I love watching the scenery change each season. Between the trees and the occasional new and resting trails, it’s like exploring a new forest every few months.
We were enjoying crisscrossing paths and running when we felt like running. She is a cold weather dog and she’ll only run with me in the fall and winter.
At one point she took a sharp right leading us down what looked to me like a deer trail. I didn’t feel like veering off our path, I was headed back to the car. I stopped, she looked back at me saying “what?” I told her that’s not the right way, let’s keep going this way. She said “alright,” and let me tug her the way I wanted to go and we continued jogging.
Not a minute later we came to a huge fallen tree, and the trail ended abruptly. I recognized where we were, I could see the road and our car up ahead - on the other side of the hillside. So I looked a Freya, who was looking at me like “did you want to do something here?” I told her she was right, “let’s head back and go your way.”She turned around with me and we jogged back until she made a sharp left and lead us back to where I thought we were going in the first place.
She knew the right path to take us where I wanted to be, I thought I was right, and she went along with me anyway. Now, we weren’t in any hurry, and we didn’t lose anything by exploring a little more. That’s what stuck in my thoughts. Where are there situations in my life when I can patiently let someone let someone else take the lead, even if I’m pretty sure my path is the most efficient one? Are there times I don’t need to dig in my heels (which Freya does do, don’t think she never has her own agenda). When could I be more like her and follow my friend to a possible dead-end and maybe have to retrace our steps anyway.
What would be different if we extended this ego-less grace to each other, to be patient, curious, and open to explore and learn together.
Now we know where that trail leads, at least until the leaves fall and it all looks different again.
This was originally shared as part of an exercise for my RYT300 Yoga Immersion and Teacher Training with Shine Yoga
