How to Walk into a Room: The Art of Knowing When to Stay and When to Walk Away

by Emily P. Freeman

Barely twelve, I stared at my reflection in the water-spotted mirror, not realizing I was pondering the magic of permanence and the passing of time.

When it comes to our lives, we’re always only standing at the start. Spanish poet Antonio Machado wrote a compelling poem that puts a finer point on this concept: “Caminante, no hay camino,” translated as “Traveler, There Is No Road.” The overarching message of the poem is that the path is made by walking.

I believe when we are willing to say “Is this true peace or is it the relief that comes from avoidance?” that just asking the question is good work and sets us on a path toward goodness and healing.

For now is an arrow, pointing at the place where I now stand, keeping me in this present moment. They are two words that, when added to what feels like an impossible sentence, can take away the implied assumption of forever and can shift my focus ever so slightly to this right-now moment, which is the only one I have.

What I’ve discovered and am still discovering in the ten years since is that even though it goes against everything we’ve learned about plants, roots are something we can take with us wherever we go. Home isn’t something we have to wait for. Home is a place we can make—even as we carry questions, even when we don’t feel ready,

He writes about the systems of families and institutions, and calls out the peacemongers—those who are highly anxious risk avoiders. He describes this kind of leader as one who is “more concerned with good feelings than with progress, someone whose life revolves around the axis of consensus, a ‘middler,’ someone who is . . . incapable of taking well-defined stands.”

The antidote to the peacemonger is what Friedman calls a “well-differentiated leader,” which is someone who knows how to lead herself.

What wounded, anxious people need most is not you as they think you ought to be but the solid presence of a well-differentiated leader who insists on being okay with or without their consent. This is as true for a parent as it is true for a president.

If we continue to walk into rooms without knowing who we are, then we could be stuck in a cycle of looking around to figure it out rather than looking within, to our life with God, to our image bearing identity, to our truest, newest self.

I want to find a period for this ongoing paragraph so I can wrap up the ellipsis and close this never-ending chapter. But if the process of discernment has taught me anything, it’s that there is almost always no once and for all. There’s only for now.

The kingdom remains strong and unshakable. And the kingdom is in you. So raise your delicate glass of nuance and I’ll raise mine too. Together we’ll gently toast to beauty and justice as we find a hopeful way forward through the fog.