Prune It

Not all movement is progress.

People, places, thoughts, and experiences are dirty. And the older you get, the more of them you collect. The more graveyards you fill.

It’s like a hike that starts fresh, clean even. Then you hit the brambles, and the blood comes. It cakes — a scar.

Good advice here — wisdom.

Lots of bad advice over here — folly.

Both are regarded along with no small amount of guidance ignored. Because what is right isn’t always right right now. And right now isn’t always about being right.

Dirt, grime, bloodsuckers, and blisters accumulate. Infect. The hike continues, the landscape changes; it’s the same world but different. You’re different. Even if you’re hiking in circles.

Then it happens; basecamp.

A time to reflect. To refine the journey. To prune.

But don’t let it fool you. Basecamp isn’t about resting. It’s the scariest part. The part where work ends, and you’re alone with your thoughts, your decisions, and all the dirt and blood and blisters you accumulated from being you. And the genuine understanding that only you can do something about it.

Basecamp is about taking stock of what you’ve got left and what you have left to give. You can choose to ignore the broken souls, the tattered knees, the deep wounds, and spiteful words; the lies, the excuses, and the pain. You can go to bed dirty and wake up heavy.

Or you can deal with it. You can prune.

You won’t want to. You’ll crave the distraction of the hike. The comfort of the work. But while all work is transforming, not all transforming is worth the work. Not all movement is progress.

If there are splinters, pull them.

If there are fractures, splint them.

If there is frostbite, heat it.

If there is anything that will create a problem somewhere along the way, prune it.