Are You Prepared for Your Trip?
My Journey is Solitude
How do I find my way from nose to toes
From head to heart
From vision to hearing
Without getting lost?
Where do I find an oasis in the desert of my mind?
How do I navigate roads torn up by too much traffic
And paths not yet cleared of underbrush?
Where do I find a map?
Who has journeyed where I long to go?
In what language will I find directions
For travel through alien territory?
Will I find a guide in books
Or on the wide screen?
Perhaps the clouds and trees and birds around me carry signs that will keep me from getting lost
But when the weather turns stormy and dark and birds return to their nests l wander in confusion and despair.
Perhaps I will find clues etched in crumbs left by other pioneers…if they haven’t been eaten by the birds
Until I wake to the truth.
No map outside of me is going to suffice for long for my journey is unique.
No footsteps have walked where I walk.
No one’s eyes have my vision.
I hear whispers of direction from within my soul
in a language no one else can hear
A language hard to interpret in a rhythm difficult to follow.
I climb up mountains of challenge,
I fall into unseen wells of despair
I am tossed by seas of never ending waves of change
Across deserts of dryness and loneliness
And into villages of strangers
who receive me with hospitality but no understanding.
I stumble unexpectedly upon places of refreshment
And pause to gaze at vistas before me
as if I had energy to reach the horizon.
It makes little sense to try to make a map as I go
for no one will cross the same rivers,
climb the same mountains or wander the same desert.
I can only record what I see, note the mistakes and wrong turns I make,
and share stories of escape from wild beasts who threaten me along the way.
Others will have to find their own map.
My map lies inside my heart and is revealed one step, one breath at a time.
It leads me in silence through jungles of fear and confusion
as well as vistas of new dawns and gentle settings.
I look not for the treasure at the end but for sustenance in each moment.
I listen not for some conductor’s signal that the trip is over
but for songs of joy along the way.
I seek not to wear fine linens
but move forward clothed in naked humility.
I pray no one meets me along the path.
My journey is solitude.
