A compass helps us orient to our surroundings. It gives us key information (North, South, East, West) for making the choice. A compass doesn't tell us where to go—but it can help us choose the right path.
I'm getting ahead of myself, though. In order to choose a path, we need to know where we're going.
In the past, the destination I would choose for myself was a goal. It might have been to hike a particular trail, run a certain race, hit a bigger revenue target, or land a prestigious interview.
Sometimes I hit these goals. Sometimes I didn't.
Regardless, I started to notice just how often pursuing a goal didn't give me a sense of satisfaction. It only led to the anxiety of finding the next goal, and the next one, and the one after that. I also noticed that the more I fixated on my goals, the less aligned with my values my life and work became.
My goals led me to make choices that didn't reflect who I wanted to be, what I wanted to stand for, how I wanted to relate to those around me.
Sometimes we set goals because we think we're supposed to want some shiny medal or external marker of success. Sometimes we set a goal to keep up with others, to compete. Still other times, we set goals out of cultural or social conditioning.
When has a goal steered you away from who you wanted to be, what you wanted to stand for, or who you wanted to be in relationship with?
I remember the exact day my approach to goal-setting started to shift. I had just finished leading a small retreat of business owners in Whitefish, Montana—the homeland of the Ktunaxa Nation—in June 2017. My husband and mother-in-law met me at the hotel we used for the retreat that morning so we could go on a hike.
They drove me up to Big Mountain. We parked and, getting out of the car, I breathed in the clean mountain air. We purchased 3 one-way tickets for the ski lift and got in line. I had no idea you could take a ski lift in the summer! Further, I had no idea you could take a ski lift to the top of a mountain and then only hike down the mountain. This was a revelation for a very suburban woman who, up to this point, preferred the safety of a strip mall to the uncertainty of the great outdoors.
As we ascended slowly on the lift, we passed over beargrass, mountain bikers, and tiny pine trees. We looked behind us at Whitefish Lake and the Flathead Valley. We soaked up the sun. Once we were at the top, we could look out over the mountains into Glacier National Park and on into Canada. It was beautiful. Then we started to hike down on the Danny On trail. There was still snow on the ground in places. The sun was warm but the air had a slight chill. The sky was a bright blue and almost completely clear of clouds.
We hiked and talked and laughed (excellent protection against bears). My mother-in-law pointed out the different flowers and plants along the trail. It was unlike anything I had experienced before. And I felt completely happy. I knew I wanted more of this experience in my life.
I wanted to make choices that led me to mountaintops and trails and family and clean air and strong legs.
I found my compass.
At first, I tried to quantify this new desire with specific and measurable goals. I made a list of all the big trails I wanted to hike. My husband and I decided we'd visit all of the US national parks in the next 10 years. I amped up my still-new daily fitness practice.