Projection Reflection

The Santa Cruz Trek is a well-known three to four-day hike that winds through the behomoth Andean giants in Huascarán National Park in Peru. I sign up for the hike through a tour company and trust the Universe that I will manifest the people I want to attract into this adventure.

The Universe always gives me what I need.

I used to think I could tell whether I was going to like someone within the first minute of meeting them. I have learned, through heightened awareness, that I can also tell whether someone is going to trigger me based on that first minute. To what extent I can dismantle those triggers determines whether I treat that person with compassion or resentment.

Somehow, amidst the stunning beauty of the Andean mountains, seething resentment and icy irritation is how I choose to greet one specific person in our trekking group.

She is a loud-mouthed Brit who exaggerates her words in the most cringe-worthy of ways. She says all the right things at exactly the right time to trigger the most explosive reactions in me. She is a know-it-all who speaks incessantly and asks questions just so she can hear herself talk.

The more she robs me of my opportunity to speak, the more insignificant and unimportant I feel. The more she fires pointed questions my way to challenge my choices, the more uncertain I feel. My injured self blinds me at first, but as I transform the bitter feelings into an opportunity to learn and evolve, I can see her, myself, and our dynamic more clearly.

Just as she is a reflection of my injured belief system, I am a reflection of hers.

She wants to be heard. She wants to feel important. She wants to feel loved.

She is me. I am her.

We are vastly different human beings, yet how we identify ourselves parallels one another. We define ourselves and derive self-worth through adventure, travel, and worldliness. We both seek others to validate our identities. Since we depend on external validation, we believe there is a limited supply to go around. In a zero-sum model, we think that only one of us can be the most X, Y, and Z. We cannot hope to bond or respect one another while we exist in such an injured state.

She is strong and independent, but she does not fully trust or believe in herself. When I assert my independence all up and down the Peruvian Andes, she feels threatened. She believes she has been backed into a corner, so she attacks to defend herself. Her eyes narrow as she criticizes the gear that I’ve bought—out of expertise derived from my personal travel experiences, not from recommendations from websites or blogs. She comments on everything I eat after I demonstrate my athletic abilities by keeping up with the young, fit men at the front of the group. She fires disdainful question after question at my lack of itinerary and open abhorrence to a bucket list. She scoffs when I share my philosophy that I will let the wind sweep me where it will. This is my deep, inner knowing. But I can’t rationally explain this to someone who doesn’t trust their own philosophy.

Because I am not rooted in Self, I flow in uncertainty when challenges arrive. I have been trying to detox from a limiting belief system that brainwashed me into thinking I couldn’t do anything well, I’d never be good enough, and that I shouldn’t trust my inner voice and knowing.

I am in the infant stages of reclaiming my power. I see it and feel it, but I do not fully trust it yet. When I travel, I enter my flow state, and this is where I tap into the tremendous faith I have in Self and in the Universe. This region of Peru has long called to me to uncover the magic hidden within.

I trust in my ability to travel gracefully throughout the world, but my self-doubt is Herculean. I allow uncertainty to settle in as the Brit challenges me. I recoil at a mere change in tone when someone comments unfavorably on my life decisions.

But I begin to realize that her disdain for me and what I represent is a projection of her own insecurity. She, too, seems to operate in that zero-sum competitive model. She defines herself as an adventurous young woman and more than likely feels the need to prove herself to be the most well-traveled and adventurous in the group.

She is the only one who does not compliment me on my Spanish-speaking skills. Her anger rises when she insists that a red card in Spanish is referred to as “tarjeta.” I explain to her that, yes, in soccer, they would say tarjeta to refer to a card, but in a game of cards, the Spanish word is “carta.” She changes the subject to food and declares that she knows for a fact (as she stares me dead in the eye) that garlic is called “aji” because she had a garlic dish the day before and the menu said so. I don’t have the heart to tell her that garlic is “ajo” and that, if it was a food dish, then the term on the menu was probably “ajillo.” As I roll my eyes and turn my head, I catch a reflection of myself.

It’s my own desire to be a know-it-all. It’s my own desire to be seen as an intelligent and knowledgeable person. True confidence is not loud or boisterous; it is steady and gentle. True confidence is based on internal confirmation and takes external validation with a grain of salt. True confidence recognizes that ability is limitless and accessible to all; it is not competitive.

This young woman and I can both be adventurous world travelers. As we are both operating under this zero-sum model, we are fighting for the crown, unaware that the only way to end the war is to forfeit. We have similar interests, but we are ultimately two completely different people. When we show up as ourselves, we add to the unique biodiversity of the world.

It is hard for me to face this jealous part of my ego. I do not want to admit that I feel my travels are less than hers because she has traveled nonstop for much longer than I have. I do not want to admit that, even though I do not believe in bucket lists, I find myself checking off boxes as she lists hers. When I acknowledge these voices, I’m able to communicate with them. Instead of stifling them, I let them speak, thereby making them conscious. When they are conscious, then I see them as deliberate decisions that I fully control.

It has been my choice to soak in resentment. It has been my choice to retaliate with comments and questions crafted to make her feel less-than. It has been my choice to go low when I could go high.

Going high builds camaraderie and community. Going high creates a safe environment for everyone to be themselves. Going high means extending compassion to others when I don’t really want to. Going high means upgrading to the best version of myself and purging the parts that no longer serve me.

Going high means recognizing my experience with the Brit as a chance to evolve. Instead of feeling guilty for my thoughts and actions during that interaction, I promise myself I will learn how to better dismantle my triggers. Not just for me, but for all the humans I come in contact with.