rebecca's insite

For the past several weeks, my world has felt incredibly small. It was the size of a few difficult conversations, the weight of an unexpected professional setback, and the heavy, claustrophobic pressure of self-doubt. When you are reeling from a blindside or navigating the challenges of a transition that didn’t go as planned, those problems feel like the only things that exist. As a problem-solver, a “fixer”, they consume your mental equity and demand your total, frantic attention. 

I recently went on a hike, and as I move deeper into the trail, surrounded by towering sandstone and the ancient, unmoving mountains of Nevada, something shifts. I start to feel small. Truly, wonderfully small. Against the expansiveness of the earth, I realize I am just a speck of dirt or an ant in the vastness of the earth and space. And the shift of insignificance was so peaceful, so calming.

The desert doesn’t care about the challenges of my last 30 days. To the mountains, the burdens that felt so heavy are practically invisible.  Standing in the shadow of a canyon wall that has been carved over millions of years, I felt a profound connection to the earth, to God. I realize that the things that seemed so burdensome are actually “meaningless” in the grand context of time and space.

This isn’t a depressing thought. In fact, it was quite liberating! If my failures are small, they are also survivable. If my stress is insignificant to the mountains, then I don’t need to carry it with such life-or-death intensity. 

As I am sitting and holding space for myself in this strange, beautiful paradox, I embrace my insignificance. I release the pressure of rushing to fix everything. Finding the right job, or even a job just to pay my bills. I surrender, truly surrender.

I believe that our lives, our work, and even our most painful experiences are meaningful, purposeful, and significant to whatever level we choose them to be. The desert doesn’t make my life matter less; it simply strips away the noise so I can find the impact I am actually meant to make. 

By shrinking the burden of the “now,” I make room for a new calling. Something deeper. Something truer. And it’s leading me to something important. A river carves a canyon not because it is frantic, but because it is persistent. My purpose isn’t diminished by the hugeness of the earth; it is clarified by it. My “Why” is not tied to a specific office, a title, or a successful career. It is tied to a standard of excellence that I carry within me, regardless of the terrain I am currently walking. 

By the end of the trail, I am renewed. I haven’t solved every problem of this current season, but I have resized them. I am no longer a victim of a difficult circumstance; I am a traveler on a much longer, much older path. I have learned to use the vastness of the world to shrink my fears, without ever letting it shrink my purpose. I am a speck in the infinite, yet I am here for a reason.