Bear Hunt

You may (or may not) be familiar with some version of We’re Going on a Bear Hunt, by Michael Rosen.

The story begins,

We’re going on a bear hunt.
We’re going to catch a big one.
What a beautiful day!
We’re not scared.

The terrain is varied and difficult, and at each point the children have to decide how to tackle it.

I learned a variation as a chant at Brownie camp and didn’t even realize it was a book until, years later, I did a search for the “lyrics” in order to settle a bear-vs-lion debate in our household.¹

But the nature of that debate is much less interesting than what sparked it. We were referencing the story/chant/song’s secondary refrain:

We can’t go over it.
We can’t go under it.
Oh no!
We’ve got to go through it!

Now, “can’t go over it!” is something I end up saying a lot more often than you might expect, a shorthand reference to that refrain in Bear Hunt. Big puddle on a dog walk? “Can’t go over it.”² Daunting underground tunnel to face in the car? “Can’t go over it.” And, newly, tricky situation facing me, or someone I love, that seems impossible but really just needs some forward momentum? “Can’t go over it!”

And the reality is, sometimes the most traumatic things cannot be circumvented. They have to be dealt with head-on. You have to go through them.

But it is, perhaps, worthwhile to remember that going through a thing means going in one side and out the other. It doesn’t mean going in and getting stuck there; you have to keep moving. If you don’t, you’re not going through anything, you’re just going into. Into conflict. Into suffering. Into trouble. Into danger. You don’t necessarily need a plan for getting out, but you have to be aware that what you’re going into is not where you’re going to end up. Because you’re not going into, you’re going through.

I feel that, for me, remembering that you’re on your way through feels more hopeful, more light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel-ful, than the idea of going into something, either without conceiving of an end or with the idea that the end will just arrive where you are. That seems like you’re facing something down. Like it’s a great battle, where you have to defeat the dragon to save the princess or get the treasure. Instead, going through is a journey, and it’s one on which you learn new things, gain experience, and maybe even (maybe) make some new friends. It’s difficult, but doable. And “difficult but doable,” or “gotta go through it,” have an ease of movement that I think is a lot friendlier than “stand and fight.”

I really think there’s something to be said for imagining your troubles as a thing, a space, with a beginning and an end, that you have to travel through that, in a way, mirrors life. The journey through our struggles takes its shape from something familiar, something we’re already going through, and we get to the end of it with information we can take back to that larger journey. Like everything we go through is a little test run and we can apply the results to our greater understanding of who we are and what we are doing with ourselves.

Just like going on a bear hunt.

I’m not scared. Are you?

—

¹ It’s bear. Of course it’s bear.

² No, the dog doesn’t get the reference. As far as I know.

³ This one I shall NOT go through.