“That’s a big bull,” Matthew McConaughey said in his characteristic slow, quiet voice, stopped on a stretch of desolate road. Looking back at him — a large bull, blocking his way forward.
“I think that’s old Cyrus.” he says. “Eighteen hundred pounds of ‘do whatever the heck I want.’” The bull snorts as the camera pans around behind it.
“I can respect that,” McConaughey acknowledges. The camera moves from the back of the car, revealing the bull’s steady glare.
“Take the long way, huh?” He nods with a slight wink and points to the bull. He turns the vehicle around. As he drives away, McConaughey says, “Thank you, Cyrus.”
An Unexpected Moment
It was 2014 when Lincoln released a series of these moody and introspective ads. This one stuck with me. Not because I was looking to buy a Lincoln, or a vehicle at all. It hit because of where I was in my own life. In my own struggles and in my own stuff.
I was carrying a lot. A smorgasbord of things I was doing everything I could to get away from. I would get angry at it all, cussing and yelling like that was going to move my Cyrus. I would beg and plead, “just let me move on,” but it just stared at me. I would ignore it all, pretend none of it mattered, wait it out. No matter what, the 1800lb bull kept blocking my way forward.
In the commercial, McConaughey does none of that. He acknowledges the bull, takes a moment, and simply starts to find another way.
It shifted something for me that day. If I’m being honest, I didn’t do it as effortlessly or as calmly as he did in the commercial, but I decided to stop, assess, acknowledge, and begin to find a new path forward.
It Isn’t Easy
I’m sure the MKC has navigation. Unfortunately I did not. No auto re-routes, no path optimization. Not even an old school road map. All I had was a general direction I wanted to go, and I started to look for alternate routes to get there.
It isn’t always easy to see the road past the bull, have it look perfectly clear, just to have to turn around and find another route you have no idea where it may lead. It isn’t just an inconvenience. It’s time. It’s pride. It’s throwing out the plan you may have spent a long time meticulously building.
In the midst of it all — the bull, the uncertainty — there is the courage to turn around and keep going. It’s not the type of courage that makes headlines. It’s the quiet, inner courage to turn around when every part of you wants to keep fighting.
Not About Being Happy About It
When we let our emotions take over, we stay stuck on the path because we are hell bent on getting past the bull. Sometimes we call it “principle,” but most of the time it’s just emotion. What if, instead of fighting, arguing, or minimizing the bull, we accept that it is indeed “1800 pounds of do whatever the heck I want”?
This is how I conceive radical acceptance. We don’t have to be like ol’ McConaughey — turning around with a nod and a slight wink. We can be annoyed, sad, disappointed, frustrated. We can feel whatever we feel. But we do need to accept that the bull is blocking the road. That means feeling the emotion, and then asking — what can we actually do to effect change?
Maybe we take an alternate route. Maybe we make a call for support. Maybe it means waiting patiently for Cyrus to eventually move on. We can’t do any of that though if we are stuck road raging at something that does not care about us.
Letting Go, Moving Forward
I don’t know why the road I was on had some bulls on it. Once I stopped fighting and accepted they were there, I was able to start looking for alternate routes.
I have had to re-route many times since then. Not always because of Cyrus. Dead ends, road hazards, and unexpected detours have all been part of the journey to where I am today. But I have met some amazing people along the way, experienced some incredible beauty, and figured out that where I thought I wanted to get to might not be where I was supposed to end up.
Radical acceptance isn’t solving a problem. It’s acknowledging our emotion, accepting the reality of the situation, and not getting stuck fighting something immovable — so we can find a way forward.
Cyrus blocking your road?
Sometimes the hardest part isn’t finding the alternate route — it’s accepting the bull isn’t moving. If you’re stuck and not sure where to turn, we can find a way forward, together.