A short note

Walking north, the path continues. We have been walking for ten days strait. ‘You would think the path would arrive somewhere?’ When someone travels, there is the expectation that they will arrive. If everywhere you go; there you are, can you ever really go anywhere?

Maybe what people want is to get out of their heads for a little while, to not feel their skin in their mind, like concrete in the walls of the tired mind.

People want to escape. But where? How? Seems everywhere they run, there is nowhere to go. How many try to lose themselves on the road, or in the bottom of a bottle. only to wake up and have to face the stark reality.

Maybe if you travel this path, you will see that others have made the journey. To freedom. To hope. To purpose. There are worse things than to arrive, like not showing up at all. It’s better to stay on the path, to bear the thorns along the way.

It’s not all green grass and paved. There are places the path has been washed away. Still you can find the path again, and continue your journey. It’s not all up hill. There is the journey across the sea, through the meadows at the shore. There are mountains to climb and make it through the pass up on top.

Then you have coming back down again. Through the desert. Across the no mans land of the sand and stone, where only snakes endure. Make it out of that land in a day, stay there not.

then there are forests to crave. and lush places where the rain has tended kindly. somewhere there is a cabin, way over there on the other side of all this.

Can you make it? it’s just a little further, if not along the path of forever, you can only stay a second. then it’s off to the palms for the weekend.

Sometimes the journey is as wonderful as having arrived. Sometimes makes a good story for when you get there. Seems almost forty-five years along this route. Maybe stuck on some dead end.

But the coffee shop is just down the street, and I can drive. It would be nice to fly. but that would be overkill. I could have it shipped to me, but by then it would be hot. I only like iced coffee. But the good coffee fairy likes coffee too, and she brings me a cup of nectar every morning. Like flowers to humming birds.

Published by ctopher

Geek