The harder the hike, the grander the view. With each step, the
promise remained true. A common phrase when meeting travelers on the trails was: “It's worth it.” The view cannot be
described, only experienced. Each traveler’s lens will see something different.
So each must take their own steps to their own moments. The stones are slick
with rain. The pebbles are loose with time. The mud and moss call with danger.
Even death. A new trail emerges with mystery and allure.
Miles of clay mud and thousands of trees accompany the way.
Then, around the bend, the sound of the siren: waterfall. A river plunges to the
depths of beauty with the power and glory that mesmerizes all who enter its
domain. “And I, I took the road less traveled and am better for it,” Robert
Frost famously once penned. I am, indeed. Rest in the Revelation. Immerse in the
immensity. Remember this road to return: be still and be in beauty beyond.
The trail continues on – a new path for me. To where and what wonders would I see? Continuing on, the trail again turns treacherous, narrowing with each step, to barely a brush of fallen woods. Coming across a small creek, the trail ends at a wide, gravel road. Level ground, just as I began. Now to determine my next steps: return to the steep mud or travel the level gravel. Surely the road will converge with the one I called base, and the way will be much easier. Makes sense to travel the gravel. So I forge on – passing campsite after empty campsite – adorned with lantern posts and gray fire pits. I continue for a mile or two, safe but unsure. What if, the roads don’t converge? I’ve never been this way before, so I can’t be sure.
The road does provide one thing the woods did not: a signal. So, I finally pull out my GPS to compass my way. I
register my home v. my position. I see the ending of two roads, with blank
space in between. The position is still unsure. I widen the view for better
positioning. The truth comes into view: the roads do not converge for many
miles. Each step was only taking me farther away home. Each moment was drawing
closer to the dark of night. The wide, desolate road was safe and quiet, but
deceptive. The narrowed path was treacherous but held grander glory. The vastness
on the map that connected the two roads, between me and home, was the trail I
just traversed. Step off the glittering
gravel of pride and presumption back to mud and roots. Such precious time and energy
wasted by the lure of “safe travels” – and would have continued so – until I
consulted the grander view beyond me. And returned Home. The way home was always there all along, I only
needed to ask.
The worst wasn’t the walking. It was the inescapable swarms
of buzzing in my ear. Mirroring the distracting thoughts that buzzed in my
mind. I couldn’t shake the buzzing, no matter my motion. Like a tallit (prayer
shawl), my only hope was to wrap a cloth around my head to shield the distraction
and focus my steps. Once back on the trail, the buzzing stopped.
We’ve all stepped onto the same wide road; especially this
year. We can’t control the paths, but we can choose our steps. Control our
choices. Death doesn’t come from obvious pitfalls, but from loose pebbles that
slip up our footing. We can never assume that we predetermine what our “wide
road” may be by comparing to another’s roadway. The lure may be as simple as a
perceived safety from treachery. For me, I wasted decades in relationships that "felt safe" but were actually detrimental. Deception of codependency. The road may be unbelief that winds into
worry. Feels rationalized as "nurturing" but in reality is destroying. Glittering with gold, we follow as fools. Further and further from true
rest, we waste our lives relying on our own wisdom. And the air is getting
dark. All along, the true path awaits each of us, only for our return. Not all
moments on the path are treachery and not all moments are glorious. Not all are
lonely and not all are family. But each moment is step on our life’s path. The Guide
is always there. We need only
ask and follow until we come Home.
