CourtSchurmanGO.com 2025-01-17

Try Something New, Get Out of Your Way, Get Unstuck

The comment I heard most often from clients this past week is, “I keep getting in my own way. How do I get unstuck?” Could it be as simple as trying something new? A quick search through the holdings at the Seattle Public Library revealed at least a dozen self-help books with “get out of your way” in the title. This must be a common phenomenon. Why do we do it and how do we stop?

Be Still to Get Unstuck

In a recent issue of PNWA’s Author Magazine, Jennifer Paros wrote about being still in order to see our current reality, so we can get unstuck and move forward. This is a paradoxical concept, especially if you’re as accomplished with “doing” as I am. In fact, clients have heard me say, “If you feel deep down that you’re a climber, yet you’ve never hiked, how can you know unless you get outside and try it?” Perhaps the stillness Paros alludes to comes in pausing, quieting the doubts, and trusting oneself enough so that the path forward can make itself known.

Similarly, if you feel you’re a good enough writer to get published, yet you have never submitted your work for anyone else to read, how do you know? And can you find the courage to keep writing with only that inner knowing to sustain you, or might a critique group help you find out for sure? What if you entered a writing contest or self-published a piece to see what kind of response you get? What stops you from trying something new?

Create Goals to Get Unstuck

Hiking to Melakwa Lake had been on my “goals” list all summer. The mist that my pup Ajax and I encountered this week reminded me of the fear-and-doubt fog I allowed to obscure my path toward starting a blog. For seven years, I’d convinced myself I had nothing more to share after publishing my first book.

Yet in July 2021, I had no deadlines, no agent, no editor breathing down my neck. I also felt like I lacked direction and purpose. Wanting to have something to show for the summer, I had nothing to lose. It dawned on me that I wanted to write whatever I wanted to write. In two weeks, I took a leap of faith and launched my blog. All it took was two short weeks.

But, like Social Media posts, people only see the happy end result. I never revealed those seven years of being stuck. Did I even KNOW I was stuck?

Quiet the Voice of the Gremlin

My gremlin still tries to make her voice heard: “Think of what you could be doing today if you’d started the blog seven years ago.” To that little green monster, I stand with my hands on my hips, and say, “Better late than never.” Every time I successfully accomplish something I set out to do, the voice of the gremlin grows softer, weaker, fading like ethereal fog.

Whether you’ve wanted to climb for a decade, wished you could publish a poem, yearned to be a better communicator, or dreamed about furthering your education, every goal begins with a single step. But which one?

Rename Your Blocks

As a trainer and former climb leader with the Seattle Mountaineers, I have ventured into the mountains for over two decades. Some people think I just go out and do stuff without much worry or thought. If they knew the behind-the-scenes of my daily exercise routine (including how long it takes to pick a hike) they would know that’s not true.

No matter how much I train, every time I visit the mountains I feel a small element of doubt and fear that I have renamed excitement. As I get better at taking calculated risks, my sphere of comfort expands.

What will it take to get outside your comfort zone? Can you embrace whatever blocks you? Can you think of it as protecting you from the unknown? What if you renamed your block and rewrote your script? What if you set an intention and then carried it out?

Just like your muscles need to be regularly overloaded to get stronger, your mind needs a challenge, test, push. Think of it as exercising the habit of following through. If you never hike, you won’t get to the top of a mountain under your own power. You will not publish your work unless you find the courage to send it out into the world.

So, on a rainy Sunday morning following a restful night’s sleep, Ajax and I drove to Exit 47, and instead of turning left as we’d been doing all summer, we turned right.

A Visit to Misty Melakwa Lake

Why did I wait until the end of summer to attempt this hike? It wasn’t the mileage or gain; Ajax and I had covered fifteen miles together and ascended 4,000 feet on recent hikes. It also wasn’t driving distance; we had been to Exit 47 half a dozen times this summer. I think it was more about the uncertainty of maneuvering through the Denny Creek campground, the hassle of adding extra distance at the start and end of the hike, and not knowing how many people would be out hiking on a rainy weekend after Labor Day.

Lame, right? Really, what’s an extra half-mile? And what is really blocking us? Maybe I still wanted to hike with a buddy; it had been a month since I’d gone out solo. Those “solo hiking muscles” had gotten weak. Time to give them a workout.

Melakwa Lake is a popular hiking destination, perhaps due to the emerald green color and clear alpine water. But close proximity to the heavily used Denny Creek Campground probably increases foot traffic for those local hikes under ten miles. Apparently, it also has a decent scramble that will get you up high enough to look at Gem Lake, Glacier Peak, and the North Cascades on a clear day.

Favorites

My favorite parts were:

Fall colors – one of the reasons I went to that particular location
Seeing two new-to-me emerald lakes, Upper and Lower (this has been the season for new lakes)
Pika!! One came so close to the trail I got a shot of him with my camera phone
Handfuls of ripe blueberries and huckleberries, even bigger and more plentiful than the ones we picked the previous weekend on Mt. Catherine
Clean, pure exercise with my favorite canine companion
An hour of solitude when we veered off the beaten path to explore the trail leading from Melakwa Lake to Lower Tuscohatchie Lake

Pitfalls

The parts I could have done without (aren’t there always some of these?)

Rain, with mud in places; I’ve gotten used to a summer of dryness, but nothing a good dog bath couldn’t cure
Fog obscuring what I know must be stellar views, reminding me again of my recent trip to Blanca Lake
Slick, rocky trail in places that reminds me of part of the approach to Mt. Washington
Crowds. As we ascended the switchbacks we could hear the conversations of people in the valley behind us for a half-mile. If we are seeking a solitary experience, then we need to hike popular trails on weekdays or avoid them.

Today’s Step to Get Unstuck

What could you do TODAY that you keep putting off? What small five-minute task could you take that would get you one step closer to your goal and help you start building that follow-through muscle? For me, turning right instead of left committed me to try a hike that had been on my list all summer. Perhaps signing up with a coach or talking with someone you trust can help you figure out your next step.

Pause, feel whatever you’re feeling, and then take that next step, saying goodbye to that place of comfort, that previous place of familiarity. My wish for you is that you not wait seven years to do something that might take two weeks. Do you have favorite ways for getting unstuck or getting out of your own way? I would love to hear about them in the comments box.

Life Lessons: Picking Beautiful Berries on Mt. Catherine

View of Red Mountain (L center) and Mt. Thompson (high point right) looking north from Mt. Catherine. Hiking with family provides life lessons I can't get by myself. — View of Red Mountain (L center) and Mt. Thompson (high point right) looking north from Mt. Catherine. Hiking with family members provides life lessons I can’t get by myself.

I told my daughter about my most recent hike to Blanca Lake. When I mentioned all the ripe bushes bursting with blueberries and huckleberries, she wanted to see for herself. As an experienced mountaineering coach, I knew taking someone on an eight-mile hike with 3300 feet of elevation gain as a first outing would not be good for anyone. It’s one of those important life lessons we get with experience. Instead, I suggested we try somewhere closer to home, with less mileage, less elevation gain, and a high chance of finding berries.

Enter Mt. Catherine.

Do Your Research

This short, popular hike is accessible from Exit 54 off I-90. How I’ve lived in Seattle for three decades and never tried this steep trail escapes me. But I’m glad I know about it now. Normally, I would avoid visiting the mountains on Labor Day weekend (especially starting at 9:30 a.m.) I’m not a fan of crowds in the wilderness, but when I’m planning a family outing, I modify my expectations and adjust my criteria for success.

My husband and I researched a few trip reports to see if there could be any berries remaining. One person said the berries had all been picked, but another from the same day said the woods had plenty. With a Nalgene bottle, plastic pitcher, and cup container with a lid as our collecting tools, we headed up the trail. Luck was on our side.

Hiking with Family: How to Make It Work

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve hiked with my family during the past eighteen months. It hasn’t always been that way. I wrote about Family Activities on our website and chaired the Family Activities committee for the Seattle Mountaineers for four years, starting when my daughter was four. We wanted to discover other like-minded families with kids her age who enjoyed hiking. That worked when she was young. But as a teen, she developed other school interests; our family hiking outings dwindled to none.

Adjusting Expectations

Instead of hitting my stride and drinking as I walked, I paid much more attention to how my daughter was doing and called a rest break when she showed signs of tiring.

She still likes to hike in what she calls “kid sandwich” formation: parent in front, parent behind, a kid in the middle with Ajax. Why? She admitted: if she’s in front, she feels pressured to go faster than she normally would and runs out of energy. If she’s behind, she has to race to keep up or feel like she’s going to be left behind. The sweet spot? Traveling bookended with parents on each end and the dog running back and forth.

What, exactly, were my expectations for this particular trip? My short mental list included:

Spend quality time outside together as a family (no screens!)
Explore a trail and area none of us has ever seen before
Do something memorable to celebrate the weekend of our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary
Get some exercise
And, above all else, pick berries

Know Your Parental Roles

On the ascent, my role became “the encourager.” My sense of distance tends to get a bit distorted when I’m traveling at not-my-pace. At minute forty-five, I made the mistake of saying, “I think it’s just ten more minutes,” only to have my husband say the identical thing … exactly ten minutes later. Who was our daughter to believe? Fortunately, we really were only five minutes from the summit. After a steep scramble, we topped out to wonderful views and a happy daughter.

The author's daughter is pleased to have reached the summit block. One of the important life lessons is to celebrate small wins. — The author’s daughter is pleased to have reached the summit block. One of the important life lessons is to celebrate small wins.

Learn From One Another

When we’re outside as a family, it’s more about the quality of the experience together, rather than the difficulty or effort required on the route. And while I typically don’t spend much time at any summits when I’m out by myself, we ended up spending nearly 45 minutes taking in the view, having a snack, watching for birds, and enjoying our little piece of the summit block.

I brought a pair of binoculars, which turned out to be useful. We might have missed out on identifying the female western tanagers and Williamson’s sapsucker sometimes found at higher altitudes in the state. My husband identified the birds while I pointed out as many landmarks as I could, from Red Mountain, Guye Peak, The Tooth, and Mt. Thompson to the north, and Kecheelus Lake to the east, to where I thought Mt. Rainier would be south of us, covered in clouds. I even got to test out my new lounge chair. I carried it, may as well use it.

Reward: Fresh Wild Berries

The best part of the whole outing was hunting for lush berry patches along the trail. This time of year the huckleberry leaves have hints of red, and darker huckleberries are mixed in with lighter blueberries. We carefully stepped on the soil, not roots or branches, to protect the vegetation, and spent nearly two hours collecting a quart of fresh berries. The resulting crisp was dessert for our anniversary dinner.

My daughter’s contribution to our bank of family knowledge came during our berry hunt. She pointed out that by squatting low and viewing the bushes from another perspective, we can discover more fruit that can be hidden from above. And by coming back through the same patch we’d just picked, we can find all those we’ve missed.

Hiking Take-Away

The metaphor for life was not lost on me. How often do we go about our day mired in our habits, hardly noticing the beauty and novelty right in front of us? By taking a different route to work or school, visiting a new cafe or store, or walking in a favorite neighborhood in the opposite direction, we “see” things in a new way. So, too, the berry bushes. When we hike with different people, we experience our world from a fresh perspective. So, too, by changing the age of who we talk to. And by adjusting our expectations to match the people we’re with, we can enjoy ourselves, no matter what we’re doing.

The next time you feel stuck, what is one thing you could try differently? Do you have realistic expectations for the tasks in your day? Instead of creating a list of ten to-do’s (guilty!), what is your number one priority for the day? Can you find a way to do that single thing with all your focus, while having fun at the same time? I’d love to hear how these tips are impacting your exploration of change in the comments box below.

Disappointment Becomes Gratitude at Beautiful Blanca Lake

My birthday hike to Blanca Lake was not without its challenges. It is a worthwhile objective and has a ton of things going for it, including:

Spectacular scenery to make the effort well worth a hiker’s time
A butt-kicking 3300-foot elevation gain in just under four miles; and
Ripe wild berries in late summer
Few people on a late summer weekday and
If you’re as lucky as I was, great conversation with a dear friend about all sorts of topics

Disappointment at arriving in fog gave way to gratitude when it lifted just in time for us to see the beautiful lake.

Blanca Lake north of US Highway 2, about 90 minutes out of Seattle, is a stunning color caused by glacial sediments from the Columbia Glacier. I chose to do this hike to celebrate a milestone birthday and was surprised by how challenging it was.

When Best-Laid Plans Go Wrong

On August 30, I left the house ten minutes earlier than planned, thinking I’d have time to walk Ajax before I met my hiking partner, Cherie, and her dog, Wonder. Ten minutes from home, I glanced at the fuel gauge and realized I didn’t have enough gas to make it back from the trailhead. I pulled into a gas station, reached for the pump handle, stuffed my hand in my pocket … The credit card and license that I’d shoved in my shorts pocket were still at home. At the last possible second, preparing for cooler weather, I’d changed my pants.

Darn it all. So much for best-laid plans.

Lesson Learned: have a secret stash of emergency cash somewhere in the car for emergencies such as this one. {One of the goals of my CourtSchurmanGo.com blog is to supply “tips from the trail,” unexpected things I have discovered with over twenty-five years of climbing experience.}

Plan B

Knowing my husband would not be awake to answer the phone for hours, and with zero cash in the car, my only option was to return home. I reached home without incident, grabbed my wallet, and filled up the tank before starting north again. Heavy northbound traffic, roadwork slow-downs, and a miscalculation of driving time meant I pulled into our meeting place, Beckler River Campground, far later than I’d promised.

I despise being late, especially to hike with a friend who is always punctual and who drives from the opposite side of the Cascades to hike together once a month.

Lesson learned: allow plenty of extra driving time, especially if you are unfamiliar with the area you’re traveling to.

Delayed Hike Start to Blanca Lake

Fortunately, Cherie had received my text. When I arrived, she gave me a big hug and convinced me that she can always use downtime to practice Spanish. No harm, no foul, except to my own punctual ego.

I took Ajax on a very short walk to calm my shaking hands. Beckler River Campground looks like a fabulous place to stay overnight for numerous day-hike excursions along US-Highway 2. When we got back, Cherie transferred her dog and pack into my car. She became my chief navigator for the sixteen-mile, half-hour drive to the trailhead.

We started our hike after 9:30 instead of the anticipated 8:30. Fortunately, it was overcast and cool, so heat would not be our primary enemy. I also didn’t notice any bugs, thank goodness. A few minutes from the car, both dogs left us gifts and we almost retraced our steps to look for a missing leash — only to find it behind us on the path a few steps

Lessons learned: Be flexible and extend flexibility and grace toward all party members. Carry an extra rope/baggie or two as part of the Ten Essentials whenever hiking with dogs.

Trailhead to Virgin Lake

The trail to Blanca Lake is one of the toughest approaches I’ve done in the past two years. Think Old Si and Old Mailbox in terms of gnarly root balls and giant steps. It ascends in unrelenting switchbacks that had me checking my dog’s breathing. He seemed fine. In hindsight, perhaps it was my breathing I was worried about.

Fortunately, we had temperatures in the upper 50’s all day, under mostly cloudy skies. By the time we reached the ridge, a light breeze teased us, making me think perhaps the fog and clouds would burn off.

A very unexpected, delicious surprise awaited: huckleberries, salmonberries, and blueberries on just about every bush. We couldn’t resist stopping for a few minutes to pick a handful or two.

Once we attained the fog-covered ridge, the next destination was Virgin Lake. I’ve visited a large number of lakes in the past two years. Compared to most, this small one was not that memorable. Wonder disagreed, however; he jumped right in to take a brief swim while Ajax watched from shore.

Lesson learned: Have a lightweight empty container handy if your destination is likely to include berries. Teen daughters LOVE fresh-picked berries.

Descent to Blanca Lake in Fog

We found the path that bordered the lake and started our 500-foot descent into thick fog and dense clouds. Thank goodness for windbreakers, gloves, and hats.

Neither of us had ever hiked this trail before, but I knew from trip reports that there was a gorgeous-colored glacier-fed lake. Somewhere.

We spotted a couple with a dog sitting on some boulders by what I guessed must be the lake, but we still couldn’t see it. Disappointed, I muttered, “We’ll have to come back sometime when we can see what’s around us.”

A few minutes later, we stopped at a large felled tree for lunch. All that work, and nothing to see. Infuriating!

I pulled out my Thermarest chair and kicked back to enjoy a snack. Then I remembered: this was day three going without nuts, to test my theory that they were causing my congestion, not a summer cold. Munching on carrots and apple slices made me long for the days of chocolate bars, freshly baked cookies, and homemade GORP. So much for a birthday “summit treat.” Carrots and apples just don’t cut it.

Lesson learned: Investigate tasty gluten-free, sugar-free, nut-free, corn-free trail snacks. On this trip, I learned to add hummus and lunch meat as portable options to go with cheese and fruit.

Blanca Lake Reveals Herself

As we snacked, Cherie finally pointed at an opening in the fog and a tiny sliver of the green lake. I jumped up from my spot and whipped out my phone, hoping for a glimpse of green before it clouded over again.

I headed twenty feet down the remainder of the trail with the dogs. The sun burned off more and more of the fog until we could see the entire lake. Trail descriptions that use the word “Gasp-worthy” are right. My jaw dropped.

Blanca Lake is a greenish-gray color that I have only seen in Glacier National Park and New Zealand. Within minutes, we could see across the valley to a hanging glacier where waterfalls drain melt-off from the Columbia Glacier. I recalled part of an earlier conversation Cherie and I had about disappointment. In her words, “It comes when we have such strong expectations that we are unable to appreciate happy accidents.” If I’d been on time, we might not have even seen the lake. Now, I appreciate being late.

Lesson Learned: Think outside the box. Look for the silver lining. What’s GOOD about what’s happening right now, and what can I change to make it better?

Happy Accidents

It may sound like a cliche, but I believe things happen for a reason. We may not know what the reason is at the time something happens, but with patience, we can often find the larger meaning or greater life lesson. I found myself pondering the idea of “happy accidents” in light of the late start to Blanca Lake and in the larger picture of the global pandemic.

COVID kicked off eighteen months of disappointments for everyone around the world. Including us. Two days before my husband and I were to chaperone my daughter’s every-four-years high school marching band trip to Ireland (in March 2020), the ten-day trip got canceled. Everything collapsed from there: school closures, my daughter’s sixteenth birthday plans, cancellation of her last summer of horse camp, closure of the Washington State Fair she competes in every year, and the Canadian border shutting us off from a trip to Jasper National Park.

Turning Disappointments into Gratitudes

The series of events that led us to starting an hour later than expected made the tardy reveal at Blanca Lake even more special. More appreciated. And memorable.

So, too, did the pandemic deliver unexpected gifts over the past eighteen months. On my drive back home (three hours later than I’d told my husband,) I realized how grateful I am for recent turns in my life:

Visiting over fifty new-to-me hiking trails with my wonderful dog over the past eighteen months;
Attending virtual writing conferences in Seattle, New York, and LA that I would not have otherwise attended;
Completing online courses in writing, change psychology, and physical therapy that I wouldn’t have taken;
Increasing my understanding of and appreciation for the many animals at Woodland Park Zoo that I wouldn’t have had if my Animal Unit Volunteer position with the giraffes had continued as usual;
Increasing familiarity with Zoom, a technology I knew absolutely nothing about prior to March 2020, which means I can stay connected with family, writing friends, and others around the world that much more easily;
Deepening relationships with a few important people I don’t think would have happened otherwise;
And, finally, supplying me with the courage to start my own blog.

While I would never wish a pandemic or illness on anyone, I have been thinking about what makes people more resilient than others. Is it due primarily to a positive outlook on life? Or, like a growth mindset, can we cultivate a positive outlook? My personal assignment from now on whenever I struggle is to look for what’s going well, even if only a tiny bit.

Lessons Learned: What are your current struggles? Can you find the positives? What is your silver lining?

Stay tuned to more blog pages to get unstuck.

Hiking on the PCT Leads to Questioning Should

Ajax at Gravel Lake, one of two alpine lakes (Ridge is the other) located 1.2 miles beyond the exposed Katwalk. This hike led me to questioning should and whether it's a useful or harmful word. — Ajax at Gravel Lake, one of two alpine lakes (Ridge is the other) located 1.2 miles beyond the exposed Katwalk. This hike led me to questioning should and whether it’s a useful or harmful word.

I recently hiked a portion of Washington’s Pacific Crest Trail called the Kendall Katwalk near Snoqualmie Pass. Most of my exploration over the past two years has been within an hour’s drive of Seattle along the I-90 corridor. By adding Kendall Katwalk, I had an opportunity to observe a cross-section of the hiking community I haven’t encountered on previous hikes. This hike left me questioning should.

Backpackers carried bulkier loads with luxuries ranging from Thermarest pads to fishing poles and other items I couldn’t imagine. Day hikers toted light packs containing the Ten Essentials — a change of clothing, sunscreen, snacks, perhaps a map. Trail runners traveled the lightest of all: vests with water bottles stuck in pockets or pouches.

But the PCT has something extra.

Thru-Hikers

The PCT is a beautiful trans-continental trail that stretches 2653 miles between the Mexican border to the Canadian border. Some people choose to hike in “sections” or “segments” while others hike across entire states. One small group of section-hikers even had a dog with them, carrying his own kibble.

Then there are those brave souls, mega-mile adventurers, who hike the whole thing. Nonstop. In one season. They are called “thru-hikers.” And it’s fairly easy to spot them.

They look seasoned, sun-bronzed, comfortable, and happy to be outside. Each one we spotted was headed north. Many hiked alone; most had smiles on their faces, a spring in their step. I wondered if that meant each had resupplied at exit 52. A shower, soft bed, and a good meal will improve anyone’s mood.

Their packs looked as compact and light as those of day hikers, pared down to the bare essentials: Protein bars. Water filter. A single set of clothes that could be layered between resupply stops. The simplest, lightest bivy gear possible.

Ajax and I should try that someday, I thought.

Uh oh.

Questioning Should: Why Avoid It?

Whenever I hear myself thinking I should I think back to the informal promise I made to my critique group members several years ago. If we see, write, think, say, or hear another use the word “should” we draw attention to it. I remind them to jot it down on a piece of paper in really big letters, and then take a favorite color Sharpie, and scribble over it until the word becomes something else.

Why?

Should shames

The word “should” connotes wishful thinking that lacks action. It is the word of shame. Like the Tiny Buddha blog points out in Three empowering alternatives, it removes all of our power. I have gotten in the habit of reminding myself to use the words choose, want to, or get to. After all, life is about making choices, whether good or bad. By getting mired in “should” we are stuck living a life of regret. Who wants that?

Shoulds are wishes gone astray

Josh Spector has an interesting take on the word; he completely removed it from his vocabulary. Even my own teenage daughter tried explaining why should doesn’t work for her — and she’s certainly got things she could use the word for: I should get a part-time job, I should start my college search, I should send those thank-you notes. But in her own words, should means being “wishy-washy.” I think of the should items as wishes gone astray. Behind each of your shoulds is something you want, or think you want; maybe some aspect of it is desirable, but for whatever reason, you have not pursued it.

Yet.

How Should Can Be Helpful

But if, for a moment, we forget about the shame and regret that comes from thinking “I should do X, but I’m not,” we can use self-compassion (wait, what? you don’t have that yet?) and gentle curiosity to think about why that thing is appealing to us as well as why we are not pursuing it right now. More importantly, it helps us examine what it is, exactly, that we are craving.

Twenty years ago, my husband and I spent five nights and six days on a climb of Mt. Kilimanjaro. On that trip, we talked about how neither of us really loves sleeping in a tent. At the time, we were considering three-week climbs of Denali or Aconcagua, both trips at high altitudes and in snow. But sleeping in a tent for merely five straight nights had us questioning our enjoyment of tent camping. Why on earth was I considering something that would require much longer?

Court receiving her Kili certificate

As I considered the days it takes to hike a section, weeks for each state, and many months for the entire PCT, I realized that my “should” was expressing something else entirely.

Questioning Should: What It Revealed

My “should” was simply urging me to do something different. Not surprising, given the fact that we’ve all been holed up to some degree for the past 18 months.

I didn’t really want to hike the PCT. But what I could see trying with Ajax is going on a light backpacking trip, maybe one night for starters, to test gear and see how we both do on the trail with only canvas protecting us from wild animals. A new adventure. Perhaps we could also expand our horizons by discovering more new-to-us trails. That gave me energy. And my third idea, finding new people to hike with, was actually something I immediately put into practice on our hike.

Ajax and I met a kind Frenchman from Oregon named Gerard. He started from the parking lot a few minutes before we did, and when we realized we were traveling at about the same pace, we fell into step and ended up hiking to Gravel and Ridge Lakes together. He commented about how, in his experience, people in America are much more chatty than people in Europe. We discussed a wide range of topics, providing us both with a completely different experience than what we initially expected.

If action and forward progress are what you’re after, examine your shoulds. What would happen if you let go of them? Can you rewrite them using the magic words, CHOICE, and WANT? Thinking outside of the box about my three ideas makes me far more excited than tackling a “should” that I don’t even want. If you feel increased energy and enthusiasm when you think about what you really want (and not what someone else wants for you, or wants for themselves), then you’re well on your way to your next step toward lasting change.

How to Let Go: Lessons from Cultivating Raspberries

Earlier this summer, my teenage daughter expressed interest in planting raspberry bushes in our backyard. In the back of my mind, I thought about weeding, watering, bramble rangling, and additional care that might add to my workload when she starts college next fall. Since I am our designated lawn caretaker, anything outside the walls of our home falls on my shoulders, until I learn how to delegate. This was her project, not mine. Could I let her be the driver? I would have to let go of her sooner or later. I didn’t expect it this soon.

Two ever-bearing raspberry plants flanking a transplant from a friend's garden. Letting my daughter take the reins on such a project taught me how to let go. — Two ever-bearing raspberry plants flanking a transplant from a friend’s garden. Letting my daughter take the reins on such a project taught me how to let go.

Don’t get me wrong, I adore time outside, from hiking and forest bathing to volunteering at Woodland Park Zoo, to grounding and journaling in our yard. But removing berry brambles, ivy, dandelions, and bamboo grass is my least favorite garden chore. Give me a pruner, lopper, lawnmower, broom, or rake and I’m happy. Did I really want to add more chores? Could I hand over this project to someone and keep my hands off? And what about the fruit? Ambivalence seized me: wanting and not wanting change at the same time.

Sound familiar?

Gardening During a Drought and Pandemic

If you have any sort of garden, you might think this is a silly topic to blog about. I’ve always thought of myself as having a brown, not green, thumb. I am quite proud of the fact that once we got our backyard wildlife habitat established in 2011, we turned it over to Mother Nature. Seems like I always forget to water my indoor plants, even succulents, African violets, or cacti, which are all supposed to be hardy.

If my daughter succeeded in cultivating raspberry bushes and they produced fruit, would she follow through on her promise to take care of them? Would they even survive one of the worst droughts the state has seen? Would our dog dig them up before they got established? Would future droughts wipe them out?

Teaching Teenagers about Goal Setting

We added “plant raspberries” to our family “to do” list on our 50/50 house project, but weeks passed without any progress. Would it be a wish that never bore fruit (pun intended)?

However, in mid-August, my husband decided to encourage and support her enthusiasm for raspberries. The two of them sat down and discussed the steps necessary to build a raspberry garden. After developing a list of questions, my husband gave my daughter an assignment to call the nursery before they closed at 6 p.m. the next day.

Setting SMART goals

What are the steps for setting goals? I’ve written and taught clients about SMART goals as they relate to climbing mountains, so I know that to make and accomplish a goal you need to keep it:

Specific – plant three ever-bearing raspberry bushes in time to have fall fruit
Measurable – provide a quantitative assessment so you know when you’ve achieved it
Action-oriented – break the goal into small steps such as preparing the soil, calling about products and prices, acquiring plants, putting them in the ground
Realistic – make sure you have time and means, then follow through
Time-stamped – provide a deadline, IN WRITING, to commit.

In this case, if she wanted any chance of having berries this year, she had to follow through before the end of the week. She had the steps and support she needed, now she just needed a nudge. Were we missing anything?

Internal Resistance

It turns out that the SMART acronym does NOT address everything. What about a person’s internal resistance? Wanting something to change but also not wanting it at the same time? That was all on me.

I tried to focus on the positives: how walking her through a small project like this might spill over into large, seemingly insurmountable tasks like choosing a college, hunting for a job, finding an apartment. My husband had been the spearhead behind starting our company, twenty-three years ago, launching our extensive home remodel fifteen years ago, our yard project ten years ago, and planning most of our international vacations. He is a master planner. I’m more of a pantser–in writing terminology, someone who flies by the seat of my pants rather than outlining or plotting. (Not, as my teen pointed out, someone who yanks down pants!)

Part of the reason I felt compelled to start a blog all by myself was to own my path, to get myself unstuck, and to prove to myself that I can develop a growth mindset in other areas of my life. Why not teach that exact same process to our daughter? Today, she could be planting raspberry bushes; tomorrow, she might set a PR in javelin or choose the right college.

I thought about my daughter’s interest in painting a bird feeder for our yard a dozen years ago. That small interest set off a ripple effect that led to hundreds of family birding trips over the last decade. It led to my husband becoming a Master Birder through Seattle Audubon. Might her interest in growing raspberries lead to her becoming a gardener in the future or getting even more interested in science? We had to let her plant those proverbial seeds. Even if, in this case, the “seeds” were already plants.

Better yet, it might help me grow a growth mindset. Rewrite those negative messages. And if I was struggling, I could blog about the process and perhaps help others change. But the real “why” hit me after I finished my first draft of this blog post: Could letting her grow a garden help launch me into loosening the apron strings and letting her become the capable adult we both want her to become?

Appropriate Skills

Precision Nutrition’s Psychology of Change course has a slightly different approach to goal setting. They use GSPA, or goals, skills, practices, and actions. Once you set a specific “smart” goal – whether you want to lose weight, climb a mountain, publish a book, or plant a garden – you need to develop the skills needed to reach that goal.

For example, if you want to climb a mountain, you will need a different skill set than someone who runs marathons. While both require endurance, mountaineering involves carrying an overnight pack for many hours, over multiple days, on varied terrain with substantial elevation gain and loss. Distance runners often think climbing to the summit of a 14er will be easy… until they realize training only for endurance doesn’t yield success. What skills do you need to reach your goal?

In the case of gardening, a few of the skills we needed to teach our daughter were:

Physicality – ability to dig dry soil, water plants, weed without getting prickled, and return things where they belong (are you laughing? then you don’t have a teenager!)
Curiosity – ability to seek answers or ask questions of those who may know more than you
Beginner’s mindset – ability to admit you don’t know everything (still laughing? see number one) and be willing to fail and learn from it

Right Practices

Someone writing a book will need the practice (i.e. habit) of consistently writing, even if that’s fifteen minutes a day. A person with a mountaineering goal will need to include strength training, pack carrying (i.e. hiking), alpine skills, and aerobic training. A gardener needs to develop observation skills by visiting the plants daily and learning about soil, leaf color, insects, and weeds. And all of these goals require patience.

Someone trying to develop a growth mindset needs to question those niggling thoughts racing through their mind. Is this truth? Where did I get this idea? Can I explore other ideas? If I believed this thought to be false, what might I replace it with?

In short, to replace a fixed mindset with a growth mindset, we need to be open to opportunities that can teach us to expand our horizons, try new things, and embrace making mistakes.

Bite-Sized Actions

What small actions can you take today to move toward your goal, whatever it may be? If you want to climb a mountain but you haven’t exercised consistently in months, can you start with regular walks around your neighborhood? If you already walk, can you try a short hike? If you can hike, can you add weight to your pack? Can you experiment with more elevation gain or maintain a faster pace?

If your goal is to summit Mt. Rainier, break it down to the skills, practices, and actions a person would need to succeed. If you want to start a blog, figure out what you will write about, how often you will post, and learn about web hosting options and writing software. Commit to a time each day to write. If you want to plant a garden, figure out what you want to plant, who has garden knowledge who would be willing to talk to you, and then acquire the seeds or starter plants and plant them.

On change

Change is hard, but it is not rocket science. Goal setting can be motivating. Getting past ambivalence and following through can be very challenging, especially when you are trying to relinquish control. I’m not proud of the fact that I have been a helicopter parent at times. I’m trying very hard to change that.

Try asking yourself why you want what you want. Ask yourself again, why is that important? Four more times, ask WHY until you touch on your deep core values and know what you’re really after. In this case, we are after an independent, self-assured child who can confidently head off to college in a year. Scary how much we still have to teach.

For me, despite my initial reservations about her project, buying into planting a raspberry patch meant providing my daughter with valuable life skills she can use for any goal. My husband and daughter worked hard on this project. My part? Merely the photographer. Once I saw the beaming smile on her face, I knew that letting her follow through with this was the right decision. Will the plants bear fruit? Will they survive the drought? Will they produce in coming years? Does it really matter?

Denis Waitley put it much more eloquently: “The greatest gifts you can give your children are the roots of responsibility and the wings of independence.” We already had the proverbial bird lesson covered (wings); we needed to get to the roots (via gardening.) My heartfelt gratitude to my daughter and husband for reminding me, in a bite-sized lesson, exactly what this blog is about: roots and wings and finding the courage to change.