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The past ten days have felt like a study in pivoting. Wildfire smoke hitting the western Cascades last week meant rescheduling several outings. My husband traveling out of town meant shifting gears to do more with my daughter. And my family’s renewed interest in doing a late summer backpack meant pivoting from activities I’d already lined up.

I thought pivoting meant finding Plan B. I’m discovering it means paying attention to what Plan B reveals about me and being willing to sit in the muddy middle while I figure out what fits.

The Unwanted Pivot: No, Not This

I never want wildfires to happen. But when they do, I have learned to change directions. When a good friend amended her plans at the last minute, I willingly accepted whatever time she could share with me since we missed seeing each other last year.

I can’t control the weather, smoke, or other people’s schedules. Those pivots were not things I chose. However, I can deal with disruption, disappointment, or unwanted change by choosing my attitude: What good might come from this?

The Unexpected Gift: I Wouldn’t Have Found This Otherwise

Last week I moved Tuesday’s Snoqualmie Lake hike to Friday, August 7. When I woke up early August 4 and couldn’t detect any smoke in the air, I realized I could still do a local ramble. My walk to Jackson Park Golf Course, Twin Ponds, and Paramount Open Space (TR) resulted in seeing a green heron, running into a friend I haven’t seen in years, and then three days later, having all five of us celebrating with a swim in Snoqualmie Lake. The moment Ajax passed over to Rainbow Bridge exactly three months ago. We had the lake all to ourselves to top off a beautiful adventure.

What’s more, when I rescheduled last Thursday’s birding trip, I found myself alone at Montlake Fill anyway, 2 hours earlier than I’d originally planned to go, capturing smoky sunrise shots I wouldn’t have otherwise had.

And the pivot? Having another chance to bird tomorrow, including a co-leader and 5 other birders for a full roster. Without making the initial pivots, I wouldn’t have had the outings that resulted. I will never know what the original plan might have delivered, but I cherish what resulted from them.

The Deeper Pivot: Maybe I Don’t Want what I Thought I Wanted

I’ve been trying to conjure up a suitable monumental birthday and anniversary adventure for late August. Earlier this year, I’d dreamed of backpacking from Stevens Pass to Snoqualmie Pass with my dog. Losing him dampened my enthusiasm. I know that I want a physical challenge, in a new-to-me place, something that doesn’t require a permit, is far from wildfire threat, and includes connection with family or friends.

On our recent hike at Park Butte, I realized that no single outing will “check all the boxes.” After talking through a Pivot essay with my critique group, I realized I had to take a step that made me uncomfortable: cancel a 5-day backpack already on my calendar in hopes that something that “feels better” comes along.

The Chosen Pivot: I Can Be the One Who Changes the Plan

The final pivot – removing myself before I have the next thing lined up – is… far less familiar and way more terrifying. It’s where the edge lies.

The fires made me pivot. Other people’s schedules made me pivot. And circumstances made me pivot. But withdrawing from a multi-night backpack means I run the risk of not graduating from the Foothills Backpacking Building Blocks (B3) class.

Historically, I am someone who finishes what I start. I wanted to finish this year. And go backpacking with Ajax.

Pivot.

He’s never coming back. I can’t complete that goal.  So I ask again, “Why is it so important to graduate this year?”

The Muddy Middle: I Don’t Have Answers. Yet.

I started blog 212 hoping to share wisdom about how to pivot and find a great answer for my monumental birthday celebration to fit the parameters. With friends, family, solo? Something completely different from hiking or backpacking? But I have no answers. Yet.

My spiritual coach Tama Kieves has taught me, “Choose again, choose again.” And maybe that’s what the multiverse is trying to teach me in this late summer pivot: “Choose again, dear one, until you find the one that fits.” If I’m choosing out of fear (of not having something monumental, of losing an epic birthday adventure) I can’t choose wisely or well.

Yesterday’s solo swim in Pratt Lake while my eight hikers lunched on shore was delicious. Can sitting in uncertainty ever be so as well? For now, I’m posting smack dab in the muddy middle. Discomfort and all.