Take An Unfamiliar Path Quotes

Habits are undeniably useful tools, relieving us of the need to run a complex mental operation every time we’re confronted with a new task or situation. Yet they also relieve us of the need to stay awake to the world: to attend, feel, think, and then act in a deliberate manner. (That is, from freedom rather than compulsion.) If you need to be reminded how completely mental habit blinds us to experience, just take a trip to an unfamiliar country. Suddenly you wake up! And the algorithms of everyday life all but start over, as if from scratch. This is why the various travel metaphors for the psychedelic experience are so apt. The efficiencies of the adult mind, useful as they are, blind us to the present moment. We’re constantly jumping ahead to the next thing. We approach experience much as an artificial intelligence (AI) program does, with our brains continually translating the data of the present into the terms of the past, reaching back in time for the relevant experience, and then using that to make its best guess as to how to predict and navigate the future. One of the things that commends travel, art, nature, work, and certain drugs to us is the way these experiences, at their best, block every mental path forward and back, immersing us in the flow of a present that is literally wonderful—wonder being the by-product of precisely the kind of unencumbered first sight, or virginal noticing, to which the adult brain has closed itself. (It’s so inefficient!) Alas, most of the time I inhabit a near-future tense, my psychic thermostat set to a low simmer of anticipation and, too often, worry. The good thing is I’m seldom surprised. The bad thing is I’m seldom surprised.

Ambiguity is exhausting to the Rider, because the Rider is tugging on the reins of the Elephant, trying to direct the Elephant down a new path. But when the road is uncertain, the Elephant will insist on taking the default path, the most familiar path, just as the doctors did. Why? Because uncertainty makes the Elephant anxious. (Think of how, in an unfamiliar place, you gravitate toward a familiar face.) And that’s why decision paralysis can be deadly for change—because the most familiar path is always the status quo.

Travel takes control away from us, exposing our weakest points. We are acutely aware of our vulnerability. We are naive, unaccustomed, unacquainted, unversed. We are ignorant, roaming in the darkness of the unfamiliar. We are lonely, lost, disoriented. Travel pushes us across the chasm. We are moved to explore the mysterious, to confront our fear, to venture beyond the challenging, cryptic crevasses of our path.

But it is just as useless for a man to want first of all to decide the externals and after that the fundamentals as it is for a cosmic body, thinking to form itself, first of all to decide the nature of its surface, to what bodies it should turn its light, to which its dark side, without first letting the harmony of centrifugal and centripetal forces realize [*realisere*] its existence [*Existents*] and letting the rest come of itself. One must learn first to know himself before knowing anything else (γνῶθι σε αυτόν). Not until a man has inwardly understood himself and then sees the course he is to take does his life gain peace and meaning; only then is he free of the irksome, sinister traveling companion―that irony of life which manifests itself in the sphere of knowledge and invites true knowing to begin with a not-knowing (Socrates), just as God created the world from nothing. But in the waters of morality it is especially at home to those who still have not entered the tradewinds of virtue. Here it tumbles a person about in a horrible way, for a time lets him feel happy and content in his resolve to go ahead along the right path, then hurls him into the abyss of despair. Often it lulls a man to sleep with the thought, "After all, things cannot be otherwise," only to awaken him suddenly to a rigorous interrogation. Frequently it seems to let a veil of forgetfulness fall over the past, only to make every single trifle appear in a strong light again. When he struggles along the right path, rejoicing in having overcome temptation's power, there may come at almost the same time, right on the heels of perfect victory, an apparently insignificant external circumstance which pushes him down, like Sisyphus, from the height of the crag. Often when a person has concentrated on something, a minor external circumstance arises which destroys everything. (As in the case of a man who, weary of life, is about to throw himself into the Thames and at the crucial moment is halted by the sting of a mosquito). Frequently a person feels his very best when the illness is the worst, as in tuberculosis. In vain he tries to resist it but he has not sufficient strength, and it is no help to him that he has gone through the same thing many times; the kind of practice acquired in this way does not apply here. Just as no one who has been taught a great deal about swimming is able to keep afloat in a storm, but only the man who is intensely convinced and has experiences that he is actually lighter than water, so a person who lacks this inward point of poise is unable to keep afloat in life's storms.―Only when a man has understood himself in this way is he able to maintain an independent existence and thus avoid surrendering his own I. How often we see (in a period when we extol that Greek historian because he knows how to appropriate an unfamiliar style so delusively like the original author's, instead of censuring him, since the first prize always goes to an author for having his own style―that is, a mode of expression and presentation qualified by his own individuality)―how often we see people who either out of mental-spiritual laziness live on the crumbs that fall from another's table or for more egotistical reasons seek to identify themselves with others, until eventually they believe it all, just like the liar through frequent repetition of his stories.

There were stars here and there, dotting the sky among thin clouds, but no moon. Annemarie shivered, standing at the foot of the steps. “Come,” Mama murmured, and she moved away from the house. One by one the Rosens turned and hugged Annemarie silently. Ellen came to her last; the two girls held each other. “I’ll come back someday,” Ellen whispered fiercely. “I promise.” “I know you will,” Annemarie whispered back, holding her friend tightly. Then they were gone, Mama and the Rosens. Annemarie was alone. She went into the house, crying suddenly, and closed the door against the night. The lid of the casket was closed again. Now the room was empty; there was no sign of the people who had sat there for those hours. Annemarie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She opened the dark curtains and the windows; she curled once more in the rocker, trying to relax; she traced their route in her mind. She knew the old path, too—not as well as her mother, who had followed it almost every day of her childhood with her dog scampering behind. But Annemarie had often walked to town and back that way, and she remembered the turns, the twisted trees whose gnarled roots pushed the earth now and then into knotted clumps, and the thick bushes that often flowered in early summer. She walked with them in her mind, feeling the way through the darkness. It would take them, she thought, half an hour to reach the place where Uncle Henrik was waiting with his boat. Mama would leave them there—pausing a minute, no more, for a final hug—and then she would turn and come home. It would be faster for Mama alone, with no need to wait as the Rosens, unfamiliar with the path, slowly felt their way along. Mama would hurry, sure-footed now, back to her children.

Her enormous eyes were staring straight into his silver ones. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t let go of her hand. He couldn’t have moved if his life depended on it. He was lost in those blue-violet eyes, somewhere in their mysterious, haunting, sexy depths. What was it he had decided? Decreed? He was not going to allow her anywhere near Peter’s funeral. Why was his resolve fading away to nothing? He had reasons, good reasons. He was certain of it. Yet now, drowning in her huge eyes, his thoughts on the length of her lashes, the curve of her cheek, the feel of her skin, he couldn’t think of denying her. After all, she hadn’t tried to defy him; she didn’t know he had made the decision to keep her away from Peter’s funeral. She was including him in the plans, as if they were a unit, a team. She was asking his advice. Would it be so terrible to please her over this? It was important to her. He blinked to keep from falling into her gaze and found himself staring at the perfection of her mouth. The way her lips parted so expectantly. The way the tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her full lower lip. Almost a caress. He groaned. An invitation. He braced himself to keep from leaning over and tracing the exact path with his own tongue. He was being tortured. Tormented. Her perfect lips formed a slight frown. He wanted to kiss it right off her mouth. “What is it, Gregori?” She reached up to touch his lips with her fingertip. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He caught her wrist and clamped it against his pumping heart. “Savannah,” he whispered. An ache. It came out that way. An ache. He knew it. She knew it. God, he wanted her with every cell in his body. Untamed. Wild. Crazy. He wanted to bury himself so deep inside her that she would never get him out. Her hand trembled in answer, a slight movement rather like the flutter of butterfly wings. He felt it all the way through his body. “It is all right, mon amour,” he said softly. “I am not asking for anything.” “I know you’re not. I’m not denying you anything. I know we need to have time to become friends, but I’m not going to deny what I feel already. When you’re close to me, my body temperature jumps about a thousand degrees.” Her blue eyes were dark and beckoning, steady on his. He touched her mind very gently, almost tenderly, slipped past her guard and knew what courage it took for her to make the admission. She was nervous, even afraid, but willing to meet him halfway. The realization nearly brought him to his knees. A muscle jumped in his jaw, and the silver eyes heated to molten mercury, but his face was as impassive as ever. “I think you are a witch, Savannah, casting a spell over me.” His hand cupped her face, his thumb sliding over her delicate cheekbone. She moved closer, and he felt her need for comfort, for reassurance. Her arms slid tentatively around his waist. Her head rested on his sternum. Gregori held her tightly, simply held her, waiting for her trembling to cease. Waiting for the warmth of his body to seep into hers. Gregori’s hand came up to stroke the thick length of silken, ebony hair, taking pleasure in the simple act. It brought a measure of peace to both of them. He would never have believed what a small thing like holding a woman could do to a man. She was turning his heart inside out; unfamiliar emotions surged wildly through him and wreaked havoc with his well-ordered life. In his arms, next to his hard strength, she felt fragile, delicate, like an exotic flower that could be easily broken. “Do not worry about Peter, ma petite,” he whispered into the silken strands of her hair. “We will see to his resting place tomorrow.” “Thank you, Gregori,” Savannah said. “It matters a lot to me.” He lifted her easily into his arms. “I know. It would be simpler if I did not. Come to my bed, chérie, where you belong.

Obama’s failure to act has been blamed on his inexperience, his unfamiliarity with finance and business, and a personal tendency to avoid conflict (or, to be blunt, on his being a coward). Some, including my colleague Charles Morris, also feel that the political system is now so gridlocked and dysfunctional that transformative policy changes are simply no longer feasible by anyone, so that Obama really couldn’t have done anything even if he had tried. If so, then we’re really screwed. But if anyone had a shot, it was Barack Obama in 2009, and he didn’t try. Admittedly, it would have taken real personal courage, and it would have been a hard fight—Wall Street would not have just rolled over. The logic and incentive structures of America’s political duopoly are such that in taking the path of least resistance, Obama was surely acting in his, and his party’s, rational self-interest. But whatever Obama’s personal motivations, America (and indeed the whole world) will pay dearly for his failure for a long time.

Just saying "celibacy is the solution" doesn’t make it so. People have to be able to do it. Paul, a huge proponent of celibacy, knew this. The difficulty that divorced people have maintaining lifelong celibacy was part of the pastoral dilemma that forced us to take a closer look at our very restrictive policies regarding remarriage, policies that most contemporary pastors are unfamiliar with because it was the controversy of an earlier era.

Encouragement, Love, Hope There was a man that struggled with every step and walked each step with fear. As we all know when you walk and pave a path of fear, the steps slow down and the true light of faith dims. His family did, however, stand behind him. Though his steps were slow and not going far, his family followed covering each of those steps with encouragement and hope. As he kept walking and turned his head, the people who cared most weren't clear. His fear had taken over and there was uncertainty that slowed him down even further. The family that stands behind you is the one who gives you the push you need to keep going. The man was saddened with fear and started to sob. Mystery of the unknown was the overwhelming door he wasn't ready to open. His family followed right behind him, saying, "We are there for you, you are strong; you can make it through the toughest path with the strongest light of hope." It seemed he couldn't hear all that was said. It was as if he wasn't truly listening to the strongest words, but to the heavy negativity that kept drowning him in his fear. His steps slowed down even further. He cried some more and was shaken even more by the unknown that was ahead. It was that he didn't want to take a chance of what could come ahead, what could be the most enlightening and most life changing steps he could take to better himself in the future. His family still stood behind him with every step he took. Every time he looked back it was getting dimmer and dimmer, but they were still there. They spoke softly to him, "Everybody has risks in their lives, even obstacles they must over come. It will only make you stronger in the end, without risks in life, there is no chance." He didn't hear them speak; he heard it as if it was another language, something so far from understanding. The man found a bench and sat down. He was tired and didn't want to walk any further. His eyes filled with tears that streamed down his cheeks. His hands starting to cover his face, drowning in the fear that was overwhelming him. Again his loving family was there, but he couldn't see. They were around him with heart-filling encouragement and love, and best of all, that blessedness of hope The man lay down on the bench; his tears had soaked his cheeks and palms of his hands and fell asleep. When he awoke, his eyes slowly opened, trying to look around, finding that he was in an unfamiliar place. His vision was a bit fuzzy. He looked down and started to realize he wasn't on the bench anymore. He saw his legs and started to look up further; he was in a hospital gown. The man's eyes grew even more confused. He stood there in silence as his head slowly tilted up. He didn't understand why here was there. His eyes turn and he looks, as he notices numerous cords

When embarking on a new and unfamiliar path, some may choose to stop or be passive for long periods without taking action. The main reason behind unwanted delays is our feelings of anxiety about the amount of work and discipline needed to catch up on the lessons we’ve missed. We focus too much on the intimidating feeling we have when learning about alternative paths and in-depth practices. Mental blocks lie mainly in resisting change or disturbing already established habits and dependencies.

Learning-agile employees constantly seek new challenges at work, take risks and self-reflect from mistakes. They’re obsessed with learning and growth rather than titles and promotions. As a result, they adapt quickly to unfamiliar situations and thrive among chaos and uncertainty, the number one most critical skill in a world changing dramatically from technology. The higher you go in an organization, the more you’ll lead and make decisions in uncertainty. While ordinary careers stutter and plateau in this uncertainty, the learner’s career accelerates. Figure 6.1: The learner’s career path

But there is something to shake even that one, to shake us all as surely as if the ground beneath our feet began to tremble and break away. Change. In any honest analysis, change is the basis of fear, the idea of something new, of some paradigm that is unfamiliar, that is beyond our experiences so completely that we cannot even truly predict where it will lead us. Change. Uncertainty. It is the very root of our most primal fear—the fear of death—that one change, that one unknown against which we construct elaborate scenarios and “truisms” that may or may not be true at all. These constructions, I think, are an extension of the routines of our lives. We dig ruts with the sameness of our daily paths, and drone and rail against those routines while we, in fact, take comfort in them. We awake and construct our days of habit, and follow the norms we have built fast, solid, and bending only a bit in our daily existence. Change is the unrolled die, the unused sava piece. It is exciting and frightening only when we hold some power over it, only when there is a potential reversal of course, difficult though it may be, within our control. Absent that safety line of real choice, absent that sense of some control, change is merely frightening. Terrifying, even.

BACK TO LOVING ME Poem written by Lourita Lue-Shing I stand upon an island Looking out to shore It is unfamiliar land so far away But I dream of something more I touch the water The path that divides the two I am scared to leave this place I know so well To seek out something new I enter feet first And feel the cold upon my skin So bravely do I set out to move Away from anything I’ve been But the swim is not easy Its resistance pulls me in I head back to where I started from Now where do I begin? I meet others on the island That help me on my way They tell me the path is hard and long To work at it every day I learn about the water’s current And the wind so hard to bear If I accept its natural course, I’m told The flow will take me there I meet others on the journey, too They’ve been exactly where I’ve been We’re learning how to build a boat, they say Forget everything you’ve heard, anything you’ve seen They are visionaries, these folks I see myself in their pride And join them as they build their boats From the strength they have inside Time passes and my boat is done I’m ready and set off on the course I might fail a few times again But I know how to fix the source I look backward and move forward And smile at the irony That it took a long, hard path ahead To bring me back to loving me I reach the shore on my own time Still scared but somehow calm Looking far back to the island now I know this is where I belong I’m sad that others I care about Are now so far away But I can still love them always And hope to embrace them here one day Where one journey ended now I begin Learning what to accept and refuse Step by step, fast or slow And knowing I can choose.

With my immeasurable inner light, I have built a rainbow bridge of love all the way back to heaven. I once walked the path of darkness, but with baby steps, I found my way out. At first glimpse, I knew I was in unfamiliar territory – but it was beautiful. I took my light sword and cut away all of the overgrown brush that was initially blocking the path, for I could see the light seeping through. I forged on knowing it was only a matter of time before I would be living and breathing that light. With each issue I forgave that presented itself upon my path, the rainbow bridge took me further and further along, at times taking me through the craziest of storms – which this past year has been proof of.

The elephants in our heads—our reflexive reactions—perceive anything unfamiliar as just plain wrong. Familiar things feel right, right, RIGHT! This is the sensation comedian Stephen Colbert famously dubbed “truthiness.” It’s like being drunk or high: delicious in the short term, ultimately toxic. The righteous mind can temporarily overwhelm our sense of truth, including our allegiance to justice and fairness. When our righteous mind is in control, we lose the way of integrity and become weirdly, obviously self-contradictory, like proponents of world peace who advocate war against anyone who disagrees with them. Because violence and the righteous mind are closely linked, I don’t call destructive actions sins of violence, as Dante does. I think of them as “errors of righteousness.” They are psychological mistakes we make when our irrational rejection of the unfamiliar takes over our thinking.

A rut is not a sign that you’ve tanked. A plateau is not a cue that you’ve peaked. They’re signals that it may be time to turn around and find a new route. When you’re stuck, it’s usually because you’re heading in the wrong direction, you’re taking the wrong path, or you’re running out of fuel. Gaining momentum often involves backing up and navigating your way down a different road—even if it’s not the one you initially intended to travel. It might be unfamiliar, winding, and bumpy. Progress rarely happens in a straight line; it typically unfolds in loops.