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The Left Hand Path
Written by Chloe on Tuesday, August 10, 2010
In many mythological tales the choice of the left hand path represents the path to authenticity. By contrast, the right hand path represents following the dictates of society; doing what one is told one should do. Many of us coming to this website choose the left hand path. Or is it a choice? Perhaps it is simply the destiny to which we are born.
Okay, so this post is about the hike I did yesterday (or is it?). Oh, not another one of Chloe’s friggin hikes! Well, if you got this far, my little trick of not mentioning hiking in the introduction worked. My excuse is that this really isn’t going to be about my hike. It’s ALL about the metaphorical content, which I shall explicitly parenthesise.
I get a good view of the mountain as I round a bend in the road. My immediate thought as I peruse the apparently impassable cliffs is "Oh, fuck!" (Sometimes we get a glimpse of our lives before us, and we wonder how we might possibly get through it.)
I set off down the clearly marked trail, just as I’m expected to. (Most of us start out our lives trying to follow the instructions of our parents, teachers, etc.)
After a while I pass the sign that says "Wilderness Boundary". (This is the moment that we are deemed to be adults, able to make our own choices.)
I keep going on the trail for a little while, but I know that following the trail is not going to lead me to the peak. (Some of us realise that following the norms of society is not going to lead us to an authentic life.)
I can’t see the peak from here, but I head out to the left, directly into the dense forest. (We may not always see where we are going, but we know that the only way to get there is to follow the left hand path. To call it a path is an exaggeration. There is no path. We have to figure it out as we go along.)
I head east, following the compass. There are many obstacles: deadfall, swamps, underbrush, and streams to cross. (Once you choose the left hand path the going is not so easy.)
I notice that when I’m not looking at the compass, I have a tendency to veer off to the north. (Sometimes, if we pay attention, there are signs that our true path is not where we think it may be.)
I hear the noise of a large animal close by in the forest. I assume it to be a moose. The large brown animal appears, but it is not a moose. It is a horse, riderless and without saddle. (I don’t have a clue what the metaphorical meaning of an encounter with a riderless horse might be. Ha ha!)
Eventually the ridge I am aiming at comes into view. "Oh shit!" It looks a lot steeper than I was expecting; and there is a cliff band about a thousand feet up that I see no way around. It’s time to figure out an alternate route to the peak. (Sometimes the way to our goals is blocked; but there may be another way to reach them.)
The map shows me that there is a saddle on a different ridge directly to the north, though quite far off. (The alternate way of achieving our goals can be longer, but may yet get us there. In many mythological tales, heading north is a dangerous path, but it is the one you must take in order to find your true identity.)
I head north through the forest, following the compass. However, I soon find that I have no need of the compass. Intuitively I know where north is. (When we are on the right path we just know it, without needing confirmation.)
Eventually I come upon a lake. (In mythological tales, water represents the shadowlands of the unconscious. One can not proceed with one’s authentic life journey without visiting there.)
Beyond the lake, the forest quickly begins to thin out and I can now see where I’m going. (After you have connected with your unconscious, the way ahead becomes more plain.)
I detect some faint signs that I am not the first to have come this way; not as much as a footprint, littler than that. (We may have thought we were alone on our journey, but there are others. Maybe nobody we can see; they are not in the same place at the same time. Nonetheless they take this journey and are fellow travelers. Yes, some of you fellow travelers are reading this.)
At the saddle I look up and am disheartened to see so many foreboding cliffs on the ridgeline. It seems impossible; yet having come this far I am determined to take another step towards the peak so long as one more step is possible. (Our goals may seem within reach, yet blocked by impassable obstacles. For example I can not afford ability reassignment surgery. However, I have been applying for jobs that may increase my income. It is simply the next step that I must take.)
After a while of difficult and somewhat dangerous traverses around the cliff bands, I sit down and check the altimeter: 11,800 ft. I feel heartened; it is only around another 650 ft to the peak. I look up at the still intimidating cliffs. They still look impossible, yet I can still take one more step. My intuition defies reason and tells me that I will make it to the peak. (One can get close to one’s goals and not see a way through. But somehow one can still hold out hope and believe that one is going to make it.)
Most of the progress has been an ascending traverse along a sloping terrace beneath the cliffs guarding the ridgeline. Below me is a steep drop off of about 1500 ft. One slip and it’s all the way down. Okay Chloe, all that means is simply that you’re not going to slip. (Things can get scary when one is close to one’s goals. You just have to keep your nerve.)
At some point I stop, thinking I must be close to the summit. I look up. It’s about a hundred feet of sheer vertical cliff. I look back; same thing. I look ahead; same thing. One way or another I have to get to the top of those cliffs. But how? I look back again, then forward. A mountain goat has appeared in front of me. I speak sweetly to her and she turns her head, staring at me intently. I keep talking. She looks ahead of her, gives me one more glance, and then picks her way forward. She disappears behind a buttress, and then I hear the sound of rocks on their way down. My heart leaps with excitement. She knows a way up! I follow where she went around the buttress. The she-goat is gone. To my left is a couloir; steep and difficult, but a route nevertheless, all the way to the top of the cliffs. (Sometimes we can be in a tight spot, not knowing how to proceed further. Guides can show us the way. They can appear when least expected. So many of you are my guides. I am grateful to all who have guided me. When I saw the mountain goat I immediately thought of Claire, because of her previous association with mountain goats. In some mythologies goats are symbolic of stubbornness. This is a quality that can help us achieve our goals. There is a way to the top of those cliffs if you keep persisting.)
At the top of the couloir I still can’t see the summit, but the going is easy along the gently rounded dome. Finally I am as high as I can go. (I’m going to personalise the metaphor here. I’m reminded of getting to the point of anesthesia prior to genital surgery. Everything after that was easy by comparison. I expect ability reassignment surgery to be just the same.)
Back in the forest I stumble as if I have aged decades in the space of an afternoon. I need neither map nor compass nor altimeter nor landmarks to guide me. I just follow the setting sun. I have no need to know where I am. I only need to know my direction; the direction of the sun. Chloe is gone now. If you wish to talk with her you must speak to the forest. She IS the forest now. (Death will come in its time. That’s okay. It is as it should be…)
Afterthought: The sun had set when finally I reached the car. However, the mountain was high enough that it was illuminated by the last rays as I rounded a bend in the road for a final glimpse. I had a phenomenal view of the ridge I had climbed, yet from this perspective it looked completely impossible. No reasonable person would attempt such a thing. (The struggle for authenticity may seem to defy reason and possibility. We won’t get there unless we have the perspective to believe that we can.)
Look inside yourselves. You are all heroes for carrying your burdens, your suffering, your sorrows. You are all on the hero’s journey.
Tags: Authenticity, Cliffs, Forest, Goats, Journey, Mountain, Mythology, North, Path, Surgery, Unconscious
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4 Comments
Dear Phil,
do you honestly believe that BIID is some kind of manifestation of life not lived to its fullest? Because I can tell you that I did a lot of fun stuff as a child. I am pretty sure that when it comes to living to its fullest, my childhood was one of the best.
For me the only way to live is to stop asking why I have BIID and what are its causes. Because answering these questions takes too much energy and there is none left for living.
As for managing, people manage to live with BIID somehow. But in many instances, it’s more of a survival mode than living mode. Living in one’s head is a dangerous business. Without wheeling, I would be still doing it. Daydreaming prevented me from living in reality. Only virtual reality mattered.
You can try to rationalise why you won’t take a step forward. That’s fine if it works for you. But does it? Is the fear of unknown whispering that change won’t solve anything? Until you really try, you won’t know.
Dear Chloe,
you wrote “guides can show us our way” and other things pointing at the wisdom of the unconscious.
Now I would like to repeat one question, maybe a bit clearer than I did before:
Is it impossible that BIID itself is a voice of the unconscious?
I mean it is pretty obvious that you don’t listen much to the needs and aches of your body. Could BIID be the voice of your body saying something like: “take better care of me”, “be nicer to me”, “follow my (= your) (maybe suppressed) wishes, lust, etc.”?
Dear Elisabeth,
of course the fear of the unknown is not only whispering but shouting… Stop asking might be necessary, but Chloe’s posting shows another way: just listening to the body and the subconscious without using the “head” too much.
Recently I picked up one of these free post cards with a sentence saying something like: “If you want something, you do it; if you don’t want it, you search for reasons.”
This can be true for me. It often was in my life.
I always come back to the metaphor Dan (of fighting-it) once used: like the fox in a trap we bite our leg off to free ourselves again. Maybe I often think about this because I had some years of big freedom, of adventure and exploring the world, and in this time BIID played no big role. Maybe it was only pushed aside for some time. But I certainly felt more alive than now.
Which might really have its cause in the fact that I “live” too much in virtual “reality”.
So I’ll try to live more in real reality, which needn’t necessarily be a real reality in the wheelchair, but in freedom (inner freedom is most important).
Wheeling always seems like playing to me, leaving a taste of something with big sugar coating but no real food in it…
Thanks for your replies which I will think more about.
Dear Phil,
You already have experience of the left hand path. Anybody in modern society who has come out as being gay has ventured along the left hand path. It is true that this is enormously easier than it used to be a few decades ago; nevertheless, it is generally not what family and society expects of you. Gaining this aspect of your authenticity took a scary step into the dark forest, did it not?
The left hand path applies to so many things. For example, if you present as a gender contrary to what you were told you were supposed to be, then you have taken the left hand path. A close friend of mine with multiple psychological problems was told as a teenager that she would never be capable of independent living. HA! She took the left hand path and has lived independently quite well. Perhaps some of you have physical impairments which you were told would prevent you from doing certain things. If you defied that then you took the left hand path.
The thing about the left hand path is that nobody can show you the way through the forest. You have to figure it out for yourself. I can point towards the forest, but don’t be staring at my finger for too long.
Phil, I DO listen to the needs and aches of my body. Within thirty minutes of starting out on a hike, my left leg is usually screaming at me to stop. But I know what hardships my body can take. I know that I have phenomenal stamina. I know that eventually endorphins will kick in and lessen the pain. I know that I will collect some scars and bruises. But that is another metaphor for life, is it not? Ultimately you cannot protect yourself from the pain of life by staying home and wrapping yourself in a blanket; for, the seemingly apparent safety may be illusory. Without pain there is no joy. They walk hand in hand.
How does one find the inner guide of one’s unconscious? By spending time alone? Yes. Through psychotherapy? Yes. But also by letting go: letting go of the cycle of rational logic that can only lead us into paradox; letting go of the fear of who you really are. Once you are there you just know. There is no need to second guess yourself and analyse further. Could BIID be blah de blah? Sure it could. But that will only lead into an endless cycle from which there is no escape.
As usual, I find myself wanting to repeat everything Elisabeth said. I’ll just add that wheeling is not to be everyone’s path. Only you can make that determination.
After I returned home from my hike yesterday, I told Alicia about the flock of sheep I encountered on my way down from the mountain top. She asked me, “Were you one with the sheep?” “Yes,” I said. The bushwhacking on the densely forested ridge was quite difficult. As I approached the sheep, they headed down the ridge, following one another as is their nature. I simply followed the sheep, and by so doing found a much easier path through the forest. Alicia had asked the right question to bring out the metaphor. There was no separation between me and the sheep. They were part of me, and I a part of them.
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1 On 11 August, 2010, Phil said:
Dear Chloe, thank you for this report of a hike and of what you’ve learnt in and through life.
The big question is how one can START and overcome the right hand side imprints. How one can learn to hear, distinguish and listen to the good, deep inner voice, the unconscious.
Is it true that it takes a lot of time spent alone (in aloneness)? Does one need to try it in small steps?
And how can we know that “ability reassignment surgery” is the right way? Can we be certain that this is the deepest, most truthful unconscious? Or is there a layer behind, below BIID?
Most people with BIID manage to live with it somehow. They do some pretending or not, fantasise about it, dream — and live their lives. How do they all do it?
Is it impossible that BIID is a sign, a guide that tells us that we are on a wrong way, that we are in a trap, that something hinders us, is a barrier, that we are not “able-lived” to the fullest, so to speak?