Walking the Lonesome Valley: Allowing the U-Turn to Go Into Scary and Healing Inner Territory

“All pain deserves to be held in the warm embrace of compassion, so that healing can occur.” — Dr. Kristin Neff, renowned self-compassion researcher and practitioner

In an earlier blog, I wrote about taking the U-turn — that sacred pause where we regain our center, get back to our "home," the seat of focus, attention, and intention (some call it our true Self or best self). The U-turn keeps us from spinning outward in blame or panic.

But sometimes a pause, a breath or two, is not enough.

Sometimes you take the breath and the pause, maybe even gone for a walk or talked to a friend, or listened to music and your jaw is still tight. Your mind is still racing. Your heart is pounding its ancient alarm: Danger.

That is when the U-turn has the opportunity to go into inner territory. Scary stuff. It takes some curiosity, setting aside of judgment, courage just to get started.

Rogers speaks of our “interior movements,” those inner forces that surge beneath the surface when we are triggered (We might think of them as feelings or sensations or emotions or inner disturbances).

He offers a helpful acronym: FLAG.

Fear. Longing. Aching wound. Stifled Gift.

When we are emotionally hijacked, one of these is almost always waving inside us.

Fear is the most obvious. We feel rejection coming. Or ridicule. Or violation. Or attack. Our nervous system mobilizes to protect us. Fight. Flee. Freeze. The body cannot always tell the difference between a physical threat and a social one. A raised eyebrow can feel like a saber-toothed tiger.

But sometimes it is longing. Something matters deeply to us. A value is at stake. We long to be respected, heard, included, loved. When that longing feels threatened, we react as if something essential to our flourishing is in jeopardy.

Sometimes it is an aching wound. Old shame. Neglect. Abuse. Betrayal. These wounds do not disappear simply because we have grown older. They wait. And when a present moment resembles the past, even faintly, the wound cries out again in fear, despair, or anger - some big emotion

And then there is the stifled gift. This one surprises people. You hear someone give a brilliant speech and feel irritated. A friend publishes a book and instead of joy you feel a twist in your stomach. Why? Perhaps a seed in you has been buried. A capacity denied. A talent long deferred. When our gifts are obstructed, something inside aches for nurture. Envy can sometimes be the cry of a gift wanting sunlight.

If we do not take the U-turn, we will direct all of this outward. We will decide the problem is that person. That tone. That post. That preacher. That lumberjack. What?

Did I say preacher? Lumberjack?

There is an old song made famous by the The Kingston Trio about a preacher named Reverend Black. I was listening to it this morning. It brings back earlier years for John and me. Anyway, in the song, a big lumberjack confronts Reverend Black in anger and punches him hard. The preacher gets back up, turns the other cheek, and sings an old hymn to the lumberjack:

“You got to walk that lonesome valley,

You got to walk it by yourself,

Nobody else can walk it for you,

You got to walk it by yourself.”

It is a strange moment of strength. Rev. Black refuses to get mixed up in the lumberjack’s stuff. He does not escalate. He does not retaliate. He recognizes that the other man has his own valley to walk. His own inner work to do.

And so do we.

Taking the U-turn is walking our valley. It is refusing to project our FLAG onto someone else. It is asking, gently, What is happening inside me right now?

This is not self-pity. It is not playing victim. It is courageous honesty.

Kristin Neff describes self-compassion as having three elements: mindfulness, common humanity, and kindness. First, we mindfully acknowledge what we are feeling without exaggerating it or suppressing it. Second, we remember that we are not alone in this. All humans experience fear, longing, wounds, and frustrated gifts. Third, we respond with warmth rather than harsh self-criticism.

Notice how beautifully this pairs with Rogers’ FLAG. When we are hijacked, we can pause and curiously inquire:

Is this fear? Is this longing? Is this an aching wound? Is this a stifled gift?

We are not accusing, we are just wanting to acknowledge what's there.

Jesus once said to remove the splinter from our own eye before obsessing over the log in another’s. It is less a moral scolding than a psychological insight. When we do not examine our own interior movements, we misperceive others. We see logs everywhere because we have not tended to the splinters within.

I think of my father.

He was a preacher like Reverend Black, and in his early years he had a formidable temper. He carried grievances. He had been bullied by people who should have been his allies. His own father had been a rough man. My mother said he fought in his sleep with his father. Eight rowdy siblings. Five boys. There were wounds there. Shame. Hurt. Unmet longings.

He also faced serious health crises that felt catastrophic when he was young. (As I think about his physical problems now, I believe they were linked to his emotional inner chaos.). Fear lived in his body. And perhaps gifts, too, that had not been fully nurtured.

For years his anger seemed to live “out there.” Other people were the problem. Circumstances were the problem. But somewhere in midlife, something shifted.

According to my mother, he began spending days and days in prayer. Not performative prayer. Wrestling prayer. Healing prayer.

We might once have called this battling demons. But what if we see it differently? What if those “demons” were parts of himself crying out for acknowledgment and care? What if his anger was a signal, not a sin? A FLAG waving.

He was courageously walking his lonesome valley.

And he softened. Over time, there was just no way you could make him upset, especially no way to make him mad...which was so different from his earlier days when a piano note played wrong might cause a teeth gnashing and raised fist.

The U-turn is not merely a technique. It is a spiritual discipline. When a breath or pause or simple reconnection with your intention, does not restore your center, try this deeper work.

First, notice the hijack. Name it plainly. “I am flooded right now.” This is mindfulness. Don't get carried away. It's just naming what's there. Accepting it as real.

Back away, turn around, redirect your attention from whatever external issue you think is causing your flooding or emotional hijack.

Second, slow your body. Put your feet on the floor. Feel the chair beneath you. But then go further. Ask, “What is being threatened or stirred in me?”

Is it fear of rejection? Is it longing to be seen? Is it an old wound reactivated? Is it a gift that feels blocked?

Let yourself consider each possibility without rushing to an answer. Sometimes it takes minutes. Sometimes days.

Third, practice common humanity. Say quietly, “Other people have interior movements too - fears, longings, aching wounds, stifled gifts like this too. I am not strange or broken for having this reaction.” Imagine millions of humans who have experienced feelings and emotions and interior distressful movements. You are part of the human family.

Fourth, add kindness. Not indulgence. Not excuse-making. Kindness. Place a hand on your chest if that helps. Say, “This is a difficult moment.” Ask, “What does this part of me need right now?” Reassurance? Courage? Boundaries? Expression? Rest? Encouragement?

If it is fear, perhaps you need safety and clarity. If it is longing, perhaps you need to articulate your value more clearly. If it is an aching wound, perhaps you need gentleness and maybe help from others. If it is a stifled gift, perhaps you need to take one small step toward nurturing it.

Finally, notice are you back in touch with your intention? Now you can speak or act from choice rather than compulsion.

Rev. Black did not deny the punch. He chose his response. My father did not deny his anger. He walked through it. Jesus did not pretend logs and splinters did not exist. He invited us to look inward first.

The U-turn is not about withdrawing from the world. It is about returning to it wiser. Grounded.

When we understand our FLAG, we also become more compassionate toward others. The angry lumberjack may be carrying fear. The sharp colleague may be nursing a wound. The boastful neighbor may have a stifled gift. Curiosity replaces contempt.

Where do we go with this? The next time you feel emotionally hijacked, do not settle for a quick breath if your center has not returned. Walk the lonesome valley when you can do it. Sometimes a therapist can help the process. Ask what flag is waving. Tend to the part of you that needs care.

No one else can walk our lonesome valley for us. We have to do it for ourselves.

But when we do, we emerge steadier, kinder, wiser, more whole, and more free — not only toward others, but toward ourselves.

How might we journey together to The Good Life by going farther with the U-turn after being emotionally hijacked – dare to walk the lonesome valley, consider what within ourselves is hurting, and gently tend to it? And if we can do that, imagine how we might show up differently for others? 

(Had I done this early on in the encounter I wrote about previously with the “difficult person," I might have been more curious, noticed that she was actually fearing for her little girls’ safety – which did in fact turn out to be the case.)

Side note: Dr. Frank Roger's suffered from horrible abuse in childhood. He had a very lonesome valley to work through and it resulted in the Compassion Practice I am sharing with you. He's now a long time professor at Claremont School of Theology and teaches narrative pedagogy and spiritual formation.

Dr. Kristin Neff also suffered through a difficult divorce and raising an autistic child. She too walked a lonesome valley - it resulted in what I would say is the top researcher in the world on self-compassion (it's benefits and the practice).

Where do I see the most need for self-compassion (and compassion) in my life and those suffering around me right now? Some financial. Some relationships. Some political. Ageing - grief and anger and despair and fear. Some related to health and loss of capacities and mattering. Loss of friends and family. And...all suffering despite it's horror, is an invitation to a deeper spirituality, healing and wholeness, according to philosophers and mystics.