May 27, 2025

“He slipped his pack off and flung it over the gate. The moment he had done so, it seemed to him that he had not till now fully made up his mind—now that he must break into the garden if only in order to recover the pack.”
—C.S. Lewis, Out of the Silent Planet

# The Pack Over the Gate: When Action Precedes Resolve

Ransom’s journey truly begins—not with the launch into space, not with the capture—but with a small, irreversible gesture: the tossing of his pack over a gate. Until that instant, his intentions had been vague, and still up for internal debate. But once the pack leaves his hands, the world changes. There is no going back.

This is the soul of every real decision.

# When the Body Decides First

Ransom flings the pack before he fully knows he’s committed. Only afterward does he realize—now I must follow. This is not impulsiveness; it is deeper than that. His body obeys an inner knowing the mind hasn’t yet named.

In life, we experience these moments more often than we notice:

• You hit send on the application.
• You blurt out the truth.
• You walk into a room you don’t plan to walk out of the same.

And afterward, the mind catches up: I guess I’ve decided. That lag between action and awareness isn’t failure—it’s evidence of our layered self. Sometimes the truest parts of us act before the guarded parts can debate.

# Thresholds That Don’t Look Like Thresholds

We imagine thresholds are marked by ritual or drama. But often they’re ordinary. Ransom’s pack isn't a magical artifact; it’s just a bag. And the gate is just a hedge-bound garden wall. But the moment he throws it, a line is crossed. He is no longer outside the story.

In our own lives, the thresholds are often subtle:

• An email you draft and send before your fear stops you.
• A conversation where you say, “I think I’m done,” and realize it’s true.
• The first time you say the dream out loud.

The object—the pack, the words, the step—isn’t the point. The crossing is.

# The Power of Externalizing Choice

Throwing the pack makes the choice physical. And because it is physical, it demands a response. Once it’s done, Ransom must break into the garden—if only to recover the pack. The thing he flung becomes the reason he proceeds. This dynamic is at the heart of human behavior: we externalize what we can’t yet own, and then we respond to it as if it were external necessity.

In daily life, this might look like:

• Signing up for the class you’re unsure you want.
• Telling someone you're applying for the job before you’ve even clicked "Apply."
• Announcing you're leaving the company before you’ve made the internal peace.

The action creates the necessity. The gesture births the resolve.

# What’s Your Pack?

Ask yourself:

• What action have you already taken that committed you, whether or not you've named it yet?
• What symbolic pack have you flung over a gate in your own life?
• What garden must you now enter, even if “only to retrieve the pack”?

Often, we think we’re waiting to decide. But something in us may already have moved.

# Conclusion: The Journey Begins Here

Ransom’s true voyage begins not in the spaceship, but in that small, unassuming toss of his belongings over a gate. In that moment, his feet are still on Earth, but his soul has said yes.

And so it is with us.
Our journeys begin not when we feel ready,
but when something in us moves first—
and then waits for the rest of us to catch up.