Hiking into the Darkness

Photo by Asaiah Brazile

A few weeks ago, my son and I found ourselves staring down 150 stairs into the mouth of the Lava River Cave. We stood there staring into the darkness with just a single propane lantern as we prepared to hike one mile into the earth. I'll have to admit that despite the fact that the whole expedition had been my idea, I felt more than just a little trepidation.

Despite the anxious feelings and the fact that the stairs didn't look incredibly stable. We headed into the dark. I tried to reassure myself. I love to walk and have walked farther than a mile. It can't be that bad. We have a lamp with us; what could go wrong?

As my eyes tried to cut the darkness to see what lay ahead of us, it seemed like our lantern wasn't helping to illuminate even one step ahead of us. Some of the steps were well worn wooden steps. Some were metal mesh that allowed a glimps into the depths below. The handrail wobbled as I griped it, heading deeper into the caves. With each step I fought back tears of fear.

A deep sense of relief overwhelmed me as my son and I reached the cave floor. The lantern still barely lit the step in front of us, but we were off of the stairs. As we moved ahead, we were amazed at how perfectly round the cave was. It was as if a machine had hollowed out the lava tube. I was lulled into thinking the rest of the hike would be easy-peasy; thirty minutes tops and we would be back in the sunshine enjoying a picnic lunch.

Our eyes began to adjust to the darkness Our lamp seemed to putting out more light than it had been. We

Photo by Asaiah Brazile

could see the beauty around us. Moisture ran down the walls. Here and there, the water pooled into little puddles. Sand filled the cracks between the rocks on the floor of the cave.

We walked farther and farther into the cave. Sometimes our foot slipped on the uneven floor. Around bends, through narrow passages, occasionally having to walk stooped over to move ahead. Often we were all alone, no other hiking parties's lights in view. No other human voices bouncing off of the cave walls.

It was a very long one mile hike. More than once my son, his voice quivering in fear, begged to turn around and end our adventure. It took some cajoling to convince him to continue. A couple of times, I had to sing silly songs just to distract him.

When we reached the sand gardens, we thought we were almost to the end only to have to go around more turns and twists to follow.

Photo by Asaiah Brazile

As we continued the distance between the floor of the cave and the ceiling narrowed. And we found ourselves at the end. There was such elation. We had conquered our fears, our doubts and the darkness of the cave! We celebrated with a selfie.

We turned to head back. We found the trail back to the stairs was much steeper than it had seemed when we were hiking in.

There were times when I found myself out of breath. As I struggled to catch my breath, I found myself fearing I would have and asthma attack.

We had no way of knowing how much fuel our lantern still had. It had taken at least an hour to reach the end of the cave. I hoped we would make it back before we were enveloped in total darkness. If our lamp went out, how would we get back to the surface?

Our leg were tired. And our stomachs growled loudly with hunger. Finally we reached the bottom of the steps to the surface. I dreaded climbing the steps. One hundred and fifty steps to reach the sunlight. One hundred and fifty steps to left my weary steps. One hundred and fifty steps until it was all over. I could see the light.

Photo by Asaiah Brazile

Reflecting back now, I recognize five important lessons that can help when facing a transition.

1. Feel the emotions that the process brings up; just don't let it stop your forward movement. For me the emotions of fear were strongest going down the stairs.  I even considered turning back before reaching the bottom. I allowed myself to feel the fear, but kept going anyway.
2. Give your eyes time to adjust. When we entered the darkness of the cave, it took our eyes time to adjust to the deep darkness. Similarly, when we enter a new situation, it takes our hearts and mind a bit of time to catch up to our new reality. Things are no longer the way we expect them to be. We feel like we're walking in bleak utter darkness. With time, if we let it, our perspective will shift and we can begin to see the beauty - all be it different beauty - in our new surroundings.
3. Don't let other's feelings of doubt and fear hold you back. Had I followed my son's urging, we would have never reached the sign that says, "Go no further." We would have missed seeing a lot of wonderful things created by Mother Nature.
4. Trust yourself, your well of resources is much deeper than you think. There were moments during that hike when I didn't think we would make it out. Pushing forward, I learned I had more strength and courage than I realized.
5. Prepare ahead of time. I didn't have any concept how physically intense the hike would be. I headed into the cave without my asthma inhaler. The middle of a transition is not the place where you want to be trying to establish routines that nourish and sustain you. Establish and maintain rituals and create support networks before you ever need them.

Like many of the difficult changes I've gone through in my life, I wouldn't trade my hike into the darkness for anything.

#change, #transition, #choice