I like metaphors. They provide depth to everyday things, add humor to dull stories, and clarify things that may not initially make sense. If you can compare something that you don’t understand or that you can’t quite tackle to something that you do understand, then you can often see the incomprehensible and/or difficult concept in a new light.
We use metaphors all the time. I can’t imagine speaking or writing without them. Even above, I used the word “tackle” in a way that brings to mind a game of football in which someone literally tackles another person, but I meant it in a figurative manner as in the way someone takes down a chore or mental challenge that is in his way.
I look at big challenges in metaphorical ways to make those challenges not seem so daunting. I think that travel and sports offer up two of the better metaphors that anyone can use to reach a goal.
Travel works well for me because I like to travel. I equate every book I write with going on a trip. Any good trip involves planning, time set aside to go on the trip, a willingness to throw out the itinerary, going places I’ve never been before, running up against possible hazards, and eventually arriving at my destination. When I write a book, I need to plan what I’m going to write but also be willing to throw out that plan and go where my characters want to take me, I have to set aside time each day to write, I need to write from the “uncharted territory” of my mind, and if I stay the course, I will eventually have a completed book — the destination.
I see my writing career, though, as a journey. It’s not a trip. My columns, my blog posts, my books, my poems, etc., are all the side trips of my writing journey. Each type of writing takes me down a new path — another metaphor.
When I’m daunted by something I’m trying to write and feel like I’m getting nowhere, then I stop and take a look at how far I’ve come and realize that even if I’ve only managed to walk (or perhaps crawl) a few miles (or feet) today, I’ve covered a substantial amount of ground since beginning my journey.
Any good philosopher will tell you that life is about the journey, not the destination.
There is no final destination for my writing career, only the journey of it. The writing of a book is a trip with a destination that is the completion of the book; however, like any good trip, it’s never truly over because it lives on — the book, in its readers; the literal trip, in my memories of it. And each trip takes me further along on my journey.
I also look at taking on any new challenge in a metaphorical way. I tend to think of it as learning to swim, but it can be associated with any sport that a person enjoys. I love to swim, so I use swimming. When a person is first learning to swim, she starts in the shallow end of the pool or along the shoreline of a body of water where the water is shallow and calm. She learns to hold her breath under water, float, do the basic crawl stroke, and many other things before she ventures into the deeper water of the pool or out where the current is strong.
Yes, some people advocate throwing a child into the deep end of the pool and letting them sink or swim (another metaphor), but I say that’s a good way to ensure that the child never learns to swim. If you attempt to do something beyond your abilities too soon, you will often fail, and when we profoundly fail at something, we tend to give up or feel like we’ll never be good at that skill.
However, when you learn the skill little by little, then one day you find that you are adept at it and can do the skill with ease. What was once out of reach is right in your grasp (metaphors!).
People want to be experts at things right away, but that’s not how it works. Skilled dancers, gymnasts, musicians, surgeons, painters, comedians, rock climbers, . . . make it look easy because they’ve been doing it for a long time. They started with the basics and built from there.
So, when I get frustrated because I can’t do something as well as I’d like to be able to do it, I remind myself that it took me years to learn to swim as well as I do, and then it took some really hard lessons from a drill sergeant of a lifeguard instructor to correct and improve some of my swimming strokes. Because of him, I now do the breast stroke correctly, and it’s my favorite stroke when I swim laps.
Right now, I’m attempting to improve my walking stamina. I love going for long walks, but it’s nearly impossible to do that here in the winter with our streets iced over and the frigid temperatures outside. I have a treadmill, but I prefer to walk in the fresh air. A few weeks ago, though, I made a decision to walk every day and to build up the distance I walk slowly over time until I can safely walk outside again. When I do get to walk outside again, I want to be able to walk a ways without being winded or too tired the next day to walk again — things that would certainly happen after a month or two of not be able to walk safely outside on a daily basis.
Thus, I’m looking at it metaphorically. I’m hiking the Appalachian Trail — figuratively, that is. I have hiked short pieces of it with my daughter and my boyfriend, but I’m currently hiking it on a treadmill in my basement, and since I have been on portions of it, I can visualize the beauty of it while I walk.
The actual trail is 2,194 miles long.
If I were to “hike” 2 miles every day on my treadmill, it would take me a little over 3 years to complete the trail. That’s not my overall plan, but I am approaching my daily treadmill walks as 2 mile sections of the Trail, knowing that every 2 miles that I walk in my basement will make 2-5 miles of walking outside that much easier when I can do it again.
Plus, I can keep that in mind when I do walk outside again — that with every 3 years of walking at least 2 miles a day, I have walked the length of the Appalachian Trail. That’s a great accomplishment. Maybe someday I will walk longer sections of the actual Trail, but I have no desire to hike the entirety of it — at least right now I don’t, but, hey, you never know. The more in shape of a walker I become, the more I just might want to give it a go.
For now, though, I’ll focus on the “baby steps” of getting in my daily 2 - 3 miles of treadmill walking.
If you have a metaphor that helps you “tackle” goals or challenges, feel free to tell me about it.
For you paying subscribers, I’m including another chunk of my current “trip” — a story I’m calling “Distant Dedication.” I shared the start of it a few weeks ago. Remember that this is still the beginning of this “trip” and I’m not totally sure where I’m going with it, but I’m enjoying the ride.
If you want to be able to read the segment and also access the earlier portion of the story, please become a paid subscriber. Thanks.
Until next time.
Tammy Marshall
Please refer to the post called “Eight Months: and counting” on January 13, 2023, for the beginning of this story.
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