Riding

I spent many hot summer days sweating at Six Flags over Texas. While most rides fill you with adrenaline, I have powerful memories of a very slow ride.

Chaparral Antique Cars is an old-fashioned road trip. I drove a gas-powered buggy through the trees. I steered the car through a winding path by an old gas station. The steering wheel, gas, and brakes all really controlled our car. Unlike a roller coaster, I was in control. I was real-life driving a car, and it was liberating.

That is until I didn’t turn well enough. Clang! The car had two plates attached underneath. They confined the vehicle to a thin metal guide in the center of the expected path. It was a defeating moment. In an instant, I was no longer driving; I was riding. I had spent the first part of the ride in complete control until suddenly I wasn’t.

I sometimes find myself forgetting the guide rails in my life. When it clangs unexpectedly, I hate it. I hate that guardrail with the fury of a thousand suns. But I shouldn’t. It keeps me on my path. I have some freedom, some wiggle, but I need to stay generally focused on a certain track.

Sometimes I need the roller coaster. I need to surrender fully to a specific path. Sometimes I need the antique car. I need an option that gives me some freedom but keeps me directionally focused. The hard work is recognizing when I need which.

Am I going where the ride is taking me, or have I designed my own path? Am I fooling myself, thinking I have full control while strapped into the roller coaster? Have I set guardrails to lead me to my goal? Do I still give myself the freedom to steer between the guides?

Be curious, be kind, be whole, do good things.