I hiked what I call a small mountain in Imerovigli, Santorini, Greece. From the pool, it's about 900 or so steps down (and up again, puff, puff) zigzagging along the side of a cliff. When the steps finally end, there's a skinny little path that winds its way around the side of the hill and up to the top.
And, I've got to tell you, it's scary. If you fall, you'd better grab on to a bush or something because nothing else is going to stop you from sliding into the sea.
So, it was drizzling a little that day. The path was slippery. I met two men who had just completed the trip. I asked them: How far I had to go to reach the end? If the path was in good shape? How much more time would it take to get “there”?
One of them replied, “You can't turn back now. You've come too far to just quit and go back.”
There are times in our lives that all you want to do is quit. Turn back. Start all over again. Sometimes we do turn back and discover that it was a mistake. What adventure, what reward, what satisfaction did you miss by not pressing onward?
I'm writing this three months after my trip to Europe because I just read a
Have you come to the Red Sea place in your life,
Where, in spite of all you can do,
There is no way out, there is no way back,
There is no other way but through?
Walking down the path. Taking a stance. Pressing onward when you want to just quit, isn't always easy. You might stumble along the way. Fall down.
But then again, there's the thrill of taking a chance, of enjoying the journey, of finally arriving at your destination, and of accomplishing something.
What do you do when you just want to quit?
Oh, and by the way, I didn't turn back.
Karen Deis is the publisher of
