“it’s the confident ones that fall in”
“Oh Bri, don’t you know it’s the confident ones that fall in?” A tree spirit lovingly mentioned to me as I walked along my favorite waterfall trail in Washington alone on a Sunday morning in 2019. I had done this hike dozens of times, but nature seemed to be speaking very loudly to me today.
Well what do you mean by that? I questioned the tree in my head, and she seemed to giggle.
This had all come about because I had been sitting by the river a few minutes previous, debating going out onto a nearby log so I could be sitting directly in the middle of the very fast-moving current on a cold, rainy day. I ultimately decided against it because I was scared of falling in. That’s when Mrs. Tree decided to chime in.
“Do you know how many hikers I’ve watched go out onto that log? Nothing serious has ever happened to them that have, but I see that the ones who end up falling in the river are almost always the ones that are so confident that they won’t. Do you see?”
I thought about her sentiment for a moment as I walked along the trail. It was then that I turned around and started walking back to where she was standing because I felt she had more to teach me about that log in the river. It would be something that would stay with me for years following.
Ruminating on the tree’s words, I walked back to where I had been sitting previously and looked at the log, noticing it was very steady and would easily hold me.
So you’re saying I could probably go out on it, right? As long as I’m not confident about not falling in. Will I be okay? I telepathically sent her my message and waited for a reply before I stepped onto the ginormous fallen evergreen tree trunk.
“Oh isn’t that the question of life?” She playfully shot back at me, and I smirked. “You walk out there hesitant and shaky, and you’ll surely fall in. You walk out there confident and rambunctious and you’ll most definitely fall in. It all depends on the situation, doesn’t it?”
I was astonished at the tree’s reply. And I mean, yes, she was a tree. And I know it sounds ridiculous, but I really did feel like I was talking to or at least exchanging information with a tree, because these profound thoughts I was having surely couldn’t have been from my own consciousness. I was not this smart. This was not wisdom I had ever known or been taught.
I carefully took each step, walking out onto the log as the fast-moving water raced below me. Moving further into the middle of the river and away from the bank, I started to fear falling in. I looked back at the tree. It was in that moment it all clicked, and I suddenly understood.
"So what’s the key?” She asked me.
Trusting each step. If I am conscious about where I’m placing my feet in each moment, I don’t have overwhelming fear of falling in. And I’m also not moving too quickly or confidently where I could be swept away by the rapids.
“This is a truth of life, dear one. Remember it.” The tree sweetly told me.
I then enjoyed a refreshing Pacific Northwest breeze on my skin and sat on that log in the middle of the river, watching the river rush between my feet, listening to the flow of the water and looking up at the beautiful view of the scene in front of me in wonder.
Fast forward to this past month. I am driving up the canyon I live in, and my car does not have snow tires on it. The road hasn’t been plowed, and my car is beginning to fishtail. Overwhelming fear starts to overcome my body.
But then I suddenly think of that tree by that river, and what she would tell me.
If I go too fast, I’ll certainly crash. If I go too slow and let my fear take over, and pull over this car in the middle of nowhere, I will run out of gas and be in a bad situation, too. Nowhere I am going is more important than my safety.
I slow down my car slightly, but not too much. I put my hands firmly on the wheel, watch the snowy terrain closely as I drive on the parts of the road that look to be safest. I tune into my car and how it is driving, moving with it when it decides to slightly slide in some places, knowing that I am not rigid, nor too trusting.
I quickly glance over to my right at the icy river that is flowing beside the snow-filled canyon road and smile.
It’s the confident ones that fall in.
