Pick a Lane and Follow It

A reminder if you've lost sight of yours

Author’s photograph

Do you have a life lane? And if so, do you stay there or change lanes as you go?

I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately and recalled a “60 Minutes” interview with Lin-Manuel Miranda, in which he discussed attending a school for gifted children. He said he looked around and everyone was smarter than him; he was “surrounded by genius, genius kids.” The interviewer asked him, “So why do you think I’m sitting here talking to you and not one of your classmates?” He said, “I picked a lane and started running faster than anyone else.”

“I picked a lane.”

That lane led to the intense hard work and dedication that made him a true pioneer, reshaping the modern Broadway musical.

Another thing Lin-Manuel relied on was his intuition, intelligence, and creative genius. Yes, collaborating is key for the highest good of the project. But he starts and ends in his lane.

I thought I was pretty well entrenched in my lane, sharing pieces and stories sparked by life occurrences and ahas, metaphors than lead to change. Most often, the flow was steady, words aplenty and the path clear. Lately, I wondered if I’d lost it or at least misplaced the GPS.

That’s when, in deep meditation recently, I received a big truth. I’m not stuck or lost. Rather, it’s my input overload that’s caused a traffic jam, like a dead-stop traffic jam where I’m buried somewhere in the midst of it all. I’ve invited way too many voices, opinions, and others’ strategies into my lane. Not collaborators; those I welcome. But rather input that isn’t for my highest good.

As a result, my writing stalled; I was looking for an exit ramp.

One time, while in Costa Rica, I woke at dawn to take a stroll. I was in the middle of a transformative retreat, and that morning, full of questions and reflection, I came upon a labyrinth, just as the sun rose.

The idea of the labyrinth is that you walk continuously on the singular path while calming the mind, trusting the labyrinth to bring you safely back.

So I removed my shoes and entered the labyrinth, pausing in the center for a 2-minute sun gazing meditation — easier said than done, staring into the rising blaze of the sun — and then continued on the rest of the way until I exited the other side. What surprised me was when I first looked at the labyrinth, I figured the trail led one way into the center, when in fact the course took the opposite direction. Was that the right way? It made me think about how often we look ahead, second-guessing ourselves rather than trusting our intuition.

The small stones poked at the soles of my feet, and it took concentration to surrender to the sometimes painful rocky path, knowing full well that sticking to the course laid out in front of me was the best way to get there.

Then, someone else entered the labyrinth. He was focused on his path, and we nodded as we passed one another. I noticed him watching me, and interestingly, I started second-guessing myself. Judging. Was I doing it right? Should I have started from the other direction this time? Was his direction the right one? The whispers of self-doubt were quiet, but I heard them and it clarified some choices I had made.

It’s so simple, how we make things complicated. We get busy, so busy trying to see our next right move. And, sometimes, when seeking answers outside of ourselves, we follow someone else’s lead down their lane, chasing a goal or dream that was never ours to begin with. Giving more credence to other voices which then drowns out our own.

What happens then? We lose our way, our path becomes less clear, or hidden behind something other than our truth, our passion or mission.

Or stalled in the middle of an input-overload traffic jam.

Remembering that labyrinth brought it home for me again. Rather than looking for an exit ramp, I’m pulling back for a moment, to reassess, to take back my lane. It feels good. Right.

The next morning, I walked the labyrinth again, this time wearing shoes. And, I had to laugh. With that simple aid and ally, the path was ever so much easier to walk. I still felt just as connected to the journey and leaned into it with more clarity because I wasn’t focusing on any pain or obstacle in my way.

It got me thinking about how all that’s outside of the labyrinth, the path, the lane, are things that are just that, on the outside. They can be allies, or distractions, or teachers, or are simply others feeling their way.

So, I’m examining all forms of input now and choosing what I receive, with intention. Resetting the GPS with my voice and inner wisdom as the main guidance. I’ll keep you posted.

I thought of a time I saw Sir Elton John at a special one-night concert in LA. He closed the night with a soulful rendition of “Yellow Brick Road,” as nearly everyone in the audience sang along.

And, then in a satisfied gravel of a voice, he said, “Follow the road, Baby. Yeah.”

Agreed, Sir Elton. Pick a lane and follow the road.

Yeah, baby.