Escape To Return

I escaped the cage in the search to find solid ground.

I didn’t want freedom for freedom’s sake — I wanted freedom so I could take the journey back to myself.

For years, I felt like a bird that was trapped in a cage. When a bird is trapped in a cage, there can only be three outcomes:

The bird will die in the cage.
The bird will surrender to life inside the cage.
The bird will make an escape and take flight.

I didn’t have a lifetime devoid of love, a lifetime devoid of accomplishments or amazing experiences. I didn’t live a life that was constantly plagued with painful experiences. I had moments of joy. Moments of curiosity and wonder. I had moments of despair.

The true journey back to myself began the moment I connected my entire life story to physical fitness—the training, the willingness to do hard things, the choice to rarely take the easier path, the commitment to consistency, and the determination to keep climbing. Over the last year, I competed in more races than most people would do in a decade. I tested my stamina. I tested my grit. I tested my courage. I tested my willingness. I tested my strength. And I realize now that these pursuits were profound confrontations with every facet of my well-being—the physical self, the emotional self, and the spiritual self. The whole person. The physical experience taught me how to listen to my body.

I began to recognize that my nervous system had been telling a story that my conscious mind hadn’t fully acknowledged or understood. My body had been keeping score for years. The nervous system has no filter. The nervous system speaks louder. The nervous system can yell and scream during those moments when the human voice stays quiet.

Physical training allowed my mind to pause. Physical training allowed my mind to get so quiet that it could finally listen to what my body had been trying to say all along. Physical training showed me the truth that our lived experiences, no matter how small, no matter how good or bad, shape us.

The journey back to myself was about allowing myself to go to a place where I finally felt grounded—a place where my nervous system could slow down, could calm down. A place of solitude where my body and mind could finally connect to determine what they actually need.

Choosing to journey down a path few people travel can feel risky. Yet, it can create the space to discover what we never noticed before. It could even change the direction of our lives.

Choosing a new path is not about finding excitement. It’s not about chasing novelty. It is a search for stability—a search for solid ground.

It’s regulation.
It’s peace.
It’s congruence.
It’s waking up in a place where the nervous system finally says, “You can stop scanning now.” 

A bird escapes the cage. But escaping isn’t the end of the story. The bird still has to find a place where it can land. Flying forever isn’t freedom either.

Eventually, there has to be a branch.
A place to rest.
A place to build a nest. 

-Steady Engine-