Belief can be ever plentiful when determination and drive are in full force and all power of light is fully charged to drive ahead and through. There is this unstoppable feeling as if no matter what should attempt to get in the way, all look insignificant or minuscule.
As a mother, as a teacher, as a partner, as a friend, and even as a child, believing in someone has had its glorious powers to push them to move forward.
Our self-belief is divinely pure. We are focused on our destination. Nothing can stop us.
The strength within feels to have jumped into an impenetrable, indestructible tank. Without words spoken, once seen, it’s as if our presence screams what rap artist and actor, Ludacris, has chimed into our ears, “Move! Get out the way! Get out the way!”
In an instant, while we earnestly move forward, there comes a point we face a force where we must stop. The road ahead all of a sudden gets very small, no longer wide and open.
There was a time my husband had bought ATVs, all-terrain vehicles, for us to take on as an exciting new adventure. Having looked up a location where we could take two for a fun excursion, with gear and preparedness, we knew we were ready. We were both excited to take ourselves on with these massive machines through awaiting dirt paths.
Upon arriving to the location, we unloaded and secured ourselves with helmets. Before we knew it, we were driving through dirt and pebbles. My husband led ahead. I followed behind.
All was going well. The dirt paths were bumpy and tricky- perfect terrain to navigate our vehicles through. With our helmets on and visors down, the dirt at times hitting our visual peripherals only made the ride more realistic along with the revving motor sound of our heavy, big kid toys. We were like our own guides for the first time, following our first experience having ridden and navigated similar ones in Oahu.
This time, it was just us. No one in front of us. No one behind us. We were following signs through pathways all on our own. This was part of the adventure- directing our own destination.
All of a sudden my husband stops. He said nothing. He didn’t have to- I felt him.
I’m not sure who looked first, but I recall looking to my right. The left side seemed formidable, with rockery and roots holding the dirt walls together. Aside from our motors running, creating natural reverberations, the walls stood strong and quiet.
Our right side created a different scene. There was no wall to note. The eyes carefully and slowly were drawn from ground level and then, down.
We found ourselves on a steep, narrow path where to our right, a plummeting cliff hill awaited any movement to ominously engulf.
While there were no signs of forewarn, it suddenly hit me as I know it had hit my husband, the path we were on was made for motor crossing, a path, with no exaggeration, all of a sudden narrowed to the practical width of our ATVs, wheel to wheel, with inches to bare under the grace of dirt grounds clenching onto pebbles and gravel that could be heard skirting down upon nature’s natural tremor.
No question, if we were to lose our course and tumble down, not to include the chance of the massive ATVs toppling on us, the clear chance of any miraculous survival would take the understanding and acceptance that perhaps while we would live to talk about it, we would never physically or mentally be the same. Minimally, we would surely be maimed upon the awaiting fall.
We looked back. We had gone too far to reverse our course. The risk of our vehicles careening down if we were both to inch in reverse was far worse than to choose to inch forward. Sitting high, traversing backward with no or hardly any view of our wheels hitting the edge would now be far more perilous than to take our chance forward.
Climbing off and walking away to leave our vehicles to save our own lives was not an option. There was absolutely no room to get up and out. Although climbing over seemed a quick thought as an option, suggesting this for me to climb over one and then, another, was not an idea my husband even mentioned.
Any unnecessary movement was out of the question. The weight of each our bodies sitting atop the vehicles seemed to be the only thing keeping us from falling off to the edge.
Whether we wanted to accept it or not, we were one with our vehicles. Our legs to give us chance of escaping this wrath were now euphemistically the ATV wheels. My very own legs were clasping onto the sides of the seat as if they were children fearfully closing their eyes while clinging onto a mother’s legs.
Our lives would have to depend on our careful navigation forward, inch by inch.
I still recall my husband looking back at me, taking a one last pause before presuming to ride forward. With both our protective visors up, looking into each others eyes, I heard us both say to one another, “I love you.”
I can only remember slowly following behind my husband a few distance at a time before he would take a pause to look back at me whenever a curve of the path permitted him such angle.
I cannot recall how long this part took as I can only recall staying determined to remain focused until we were finally out.
It is with understanding that we both made it out of that course to first, breathe, get off those thankfully well-behaved vehicles, to find our own legs to walk to one another, quietly breathe again, before giving each other a smile of relief and a pretty good embrace while managing to blurt a soothing laugh.
As we have been for over three decades now, we didn’t talk about what we had just overcome. The challenge was done.
The forest was quiet. Although we had passed by some people target-shooting at a designated area earlier on during our ride, they were clearly a far distance from where we were.
No one witnessed what we had just endured. No one would have probably thought to believe it.
Sometimes, that’s just how life goes.
My recollection of my emotions? Peaceful. Calm. Still. I recalled looking at the threat to my right once more after the first, but not allowing it to be my focus of destiny as I rode forward.
I steered close to my left. Although the walls seemed to have been pushing back at me, I leaned back in. I used what felt like caving down pressure as leverage for me to push back.
Sometimes, the only way to push forward is to do so while fighting against walls trying to take you down.
From my thoughts, now looking back, while there was clearly only one direction to get me out, having the other three sides as no option, one of the three, my left side, gave me the pressure I needed to push upon it. Other than my belief and trust in my husband to lead the way, those walls became my only leverage to get me moving, one revolution of the wheels at a time.
Nothing told me my husband wouldn’t get us through. There was not a thought that we would not make it. The process may have seemed endless, but inch by inch, we stayed focused to carefully navigate our course until we steered clear into safety.
I believe this story may have been somewhat shared sometime before in one of my earliest articles. I do not mind to repeat it here, once again, because the message is one I need to be reminded as well at times.
There are things in life others weren’t meant to believe could ever happen or did happen. How else should they react if what was supposed to kill, destroy, or maim you actually has you living to talk about it?
Such moments are just not meant to be believed by others because the moment of trial and tribulation was meant for you.
If and when my children and grandchildren and our offspring beyond come across these reflections of mine, what I hope for this one is to remind them that when life seems perilous, as if every step would take you plummeting down, even if there seems to be a wall pushing down on you, Sir Isaac Newton that and push back. Use forces against you as your leverage to push back and pull you through.
Make the forces against you work for you.
Sometimes days are bleak and belief is so small or hardly anything at all. Like the book I’ve read, We Do Things Differently, by Mark Stevenson, a part I have credited several times that will always stick with me because of its connection to my very understanding of the meaning is, in more or less words, If you ever want to know how people succeed, ask those who have no choice.
That pathway on that dirt course may have been dark for a moment, but funny thing is, I can only recall the brightness from the sun piercing through the tall canopy forest trees. My husband may have had some doubts, but funny thing is, I thought nothing else other than he would lead us out while my only job was to carefully steer my way through so he, too, could rely and trust in me within the journey.
There used to be that saying, Ride or Die. I say, Ride Until You Die. Dying is not up to us. Riding is.
Belief is all you will have sometimes. Sometimes, that’s more than enough.
