What are you risking and why?

Welcome to the third release of my newsletter where we’re exploring building connected and thriving lives overflowing with abundance. It’s a newsletter about vulnerability, risk taking, connection, re-enchanting our lives and the world. We’re exploring finding deep roots and abundant futures. Inspired by over 4,000 miles hiked on the Appalachian Trail and Continental Divide Trail.

It’s always 100% human written, by me. From the heart.

I’m launching something new in June and July: A small group 4-week cohort program aimed at creating the space for people in their 20s and 30s to define their values and create connected, thriving lives focused on health, relationships, and creativity. It’s virtual and live, and focused on exploring sustainable habit creation so participants can build a life of passion that they love. It’s all about seeing and moving about the world in new and empowering ways. Dates will be solidified based on what works for those interested. Reply to this email if you or someone you know is interested, and there’s more info here as well: https://www.bluecompassinstitute.com. This is something new for me, and any feedback or support is greatly appreciated!

~Amy

Truly Alive: Risk and the Possibility of Connection

By: Amy Johnson

The world is in a state of flux. People are increasingly divided. Everyday we are forced to make decisions that too often feel fraught with potential downside.

Taking a new job, leaving a job, joining a new group, trying something new, saying what you really think, changing how we think or live, dating someone new.

It can feel overwhelming. And risky. We often worry that things may not work out as we want them to. I know I do.

Today I want to explore what might lie on the other side of the risks we’re sometimes afraid to take. And what it all comes down to is this: there are always two risks to consider: the risk of doing the thing, and the risk of not doing the thing. But too often, we only fully consider one of those risks.

For me, this lesson lives viscerally in my memory of a time when I hitch-hiked 10 miles into a town on the Appalachian Trail, to resupply on food in rural Vermont.

When I reached the parking lot at the road crossing, there were two people meandering about. A middle aged woman, and a middle aged man. It was clear they were not together. There was no cell service in the area. I knew I had two options: stand on the side of the highway and stick out my thumb to catch a ride, or get a ride with one of these two.

I began talking to the woman, telling her how I needed to get into town and hoping she would offer me a ride. She did not. The man overheard and said, “I’m heading into town, I can give you a ride if you want.” I glanced at him and took in the scene: A man by himself, with a beat-up old pick truck overflowing with tools. He clearly wasn’t a hiker, wearing old jeans and a worn-out shirt. It was odd. “I’m not sure I should,” went through my head. But I didn’t immediately say yes or no. I turned to the man, looked him in the eyes and spoke to him for a few minutes. After a few minutes of talking to him, something in me told me that I wasn’t in danger. I said yes, I’ll take the ride. I climbed in the passenger seat, noticed what appeared to be a bookmark on the dashboard, pulled my pack onto my lap, and off we went.

I didn’t feel unsafe, but there was a part of me that was nervous. Something still wasn’t adding up. Why was this middle aged, gruff-looking man at a trailhead in the middle of nowhere by himself? So I started asking him questions. He was talking, tell me all about his life. He was a maintenance man in town, he said. “My son, he loves to hike, he used to hike all the time,” he continued. Suddenly he reached to the dashboard and handed me the bookmark. On it was a picture of his 21 year old son, along with the dates of his life. It was from his funeral. The man looked over at me, “He was killed in a car accident.” “Oh….” the world stopped for me for just a moment. “I am so sorry,” I said, looking back at him and then back out the window at the passing mountains. My nervousness slipped away. This man had been wandering about the trailhead, likely because he was mourning the death of his young son, about the same age as me, who loved to hike.

We finished the last few miles into town, talking the whole way, and he dropped me off at the grocery store, wishing me luck for the journey. I thanked him and got out of the car, waving goodbye to him as I glanced over my shoulder.

As much as I needed that ride into town, I’d like to think, perhaps that man needed me too. I needed a ride, and perhaps he needed some balm to his grief. I’d like to think that the connection we shared over 10 miles and 15 minutes was some comfort to him. It was certainly a connection that I’ve carried with me ever since.

I’ve reflected on that experience a lot since then, and there is something I keep coming back to. And that is:

There is no such thing as safe in life. Death is the only guarantee.

And yet, each of us has been given this wonderfully beautiful miracle of life. And every day, every moment– each of us has a choice– a choice of how we will live. And no matter what choice we make, there is always risk. Getting in a car to drive to work is a risk, taking a new job is a risk, staying in the same job is a risk, being single is a risk, being in a relationship is a risk. There is always risk.

The only real question we have to answer for ourselves is: What risks are we taking and why?

And how are we managing the risks, to give them the best chance of working out how we want?

In retrospect, I was risking a possibility of danger for the possibility of connection.

I managed the risk of danger by listening to my intuition and following some best practices (I took a picture of his license plate before getting into the car).

And what is life about, if not the possibility of connection? The possibility of being so truly, so fully alive, every moment?

True connection is what I felt that day.

I wouldn’t trade it.

This is a lesson that still informs how I live to this day. I often find myself thinking: I could avoid the risk of joining a new group of people and feeling awkward, but then I would be risking the lasting connections that might result. I could avoid the risk of having a job search take longer than I want it to by looking for a job immediately after a layoff, but then I would risk losing the months of reflection during a career break that might change the entire direction of my work.

So now whenever I’m faced with a decision that seems to involve risk, I always make a point of stepping back and asking “What am I risking if I do this, and what am I risking if I don’t do this?”

Because once I really define that second part, I often find I feel it so viscerally that I can’t help but do the thing.

Because life is just too darn short to not take the risk of being truly alive.

So I’ll leave you with this. Where in your life have you not fully considered both the risk of doing the thing, and the risk of not doing the thing? And what might lie on the other side of the risk you’ve been afraid to take?

What new possibilities might reveal themselves?

And if you know of someone who you think could benefit from this perspective, share this article or send me their email.

Until next time,

Amy

P.S. It’s a lot easier to navigate the challenges and decision of a world in flux when you’re dialed into your purpose and values. Then, you’re no longer making decisions about risk in a vacuum: you have a compass bearing to measure any decision against. We’ll be discussing that more in future newsletters.

I’m also offering a 4-week workshop series in June and July geared towards people in their 20’s and 30’s that is focused on exactly these topics. Each person will be given the space and support to define their values and purpose, and develop habits and define their direction in the areas of health, relationships, and creativity. If you know a young person who is ambitious and successful, but who wants more depth, more passion, more them in their life, send them my way. I’d love to have them. Just reply to this email if you or someone you know is interested. More information and sign-ups are also here: https://www.bluecompassinstitute.com.