Hey Scribbler,
In Utrecht, two main canals run through the city center, Oudegracht and Nieuwegracht. Boats cruise down the Oudegracht canal carrying bottles of wine, cheese, and sometimes the occasional bike laying in the middle of four friends.
I’m staying with my friend Becky (of Traveling Inwards) and it's the kind of day the Dutch live for: it’s all blue skies, sun, and a light breeze. As I unlock her bike from the post next to the canal I’m hoping the idyllic scenery will help me move on from the last few months of drama in Austin.
Since it’s my first day cycling in the Netherlands, I’m feeling wobbly and scared to navigate the cars, trams, a thousand other cyclists, and random tourists wandering in the bike lanes. (Usually I’m one of them.)
After a few blocks, I look for the signs pointing towards Amelisweerd. That’s when I know I’m lost. I’m sure I’ve veered off my path at a crossroads just past the city center.
This was supposed to be an easy bike ride, a straight shot to the park with only a quick ride through the city center, cruising in bike lanes all the way.
“Why I decided to do this alone, I’ll never know,” I mumble to myself.
Because, just like on my bike, I’m at a crossroads in life.
I got hustled by a company, moved cross country for the job, then let go, all in under two years. (Catch up on that here.)
And I realize I have a choice:
Swing my handlebars to the left and pedal hard in what I know is the wrong direction or…
Take a minute.
Loosen my grip on the handlebars. Unfurrow my brow. Unclench my jaw.
Pause. And ask for help.
As I cycle past cows, stalks of common reed plants, velvet grass, and creeping buttercups, all the tension inside me starts to uncoil. It happens in a nano second – but I know that’s the feeling I’m after.
So I think about how to embrace this moment for what it is: an opportunity to reflect, question where I want to live, where I belong, and most importantly: how to be really intentional about my next steps.
Why is that so important you may ask?
Because right now, I’m clueless about what I want next. And I don’t want to move forward on autopilot. I want to be intentional.
When people ask, “what’s next?” I feel compelled to not just have an answer, but the right answer. One that makes me look in control of my—strategically thought-out—destiny.
And that kind of pressure exposes us to the risk that we’ll end up right back at the same crossroads.
So when I feel that spaciousness, the one that feels like uncoiling, I’m able to take a breath and say, “I don’t know, but it’ll work out.”
(« Oh, so true » Becky would say.)
And for a few minutes I genuinely see the cows as I whizz by on the bike. Instead of watching them pass in a blur of black and white while I’m worrying about my budget and how long all this will take and where I’ll live and what jobs I’ll apply for and, and, and…
I want to scoop up that feeling and take it home with me in a blue and white stroopwafel tin.
But you can’t force internal spaciousness before it’s time. Your brain has to take a backseat first.
For me, my scribbling practice and getting lost in nature are simple ways to create the conditions for that spaciousness.
And because this is all about crossroads, I’ve got two things for you to chew on:
You decide which one suits you.
Option 1: Set a timer (could be 8, 10 or 15 minutes) and start with the prompt the crossroads of my identity about...
And freewrite about a period in your life when you felt your identity was in a state of transition. What events or choices prompted this shift, and how did you navigate the uncertainty of self-discovery?
Option 2: Think of a time you were at a crossroads in life. Looking back, consider how you approached it and what you learned from it. What was the outcome and were you satisfied with how things turned out?
Give yourself an hour to write. (Consider setting a timer.) Don’t overthink it, just write stream of consciousness. Later you can use the story in a Substack post, a social post, or keep it in your journal where no one will see it. But let yourself reflect on that time in your life.
Let me know in the comments below if you tried #1 or #2…
P.S. Turns out, a kind Dutch man on a ride with his toddler pointed me in the right direction to get to Amelisweerd. I did get lost at the crossroads. And he helped me get back on the path.
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I've nearly been mowed, pleasantly, down, myself!