The Path of Mystery
I think I've finally figured out how I like to travel. And I think how we travel is the best indicator of how we approach life.
This past week I discovered a secret path. I love secret paths. This one goes down straight from my house through the greenbelt to industrial SoDo below the hill. You go down some steps,
below fallen trees from the last storm, till you come to an overgrown blackberry bush-laden path. So I wasn't the first to discover it. I can imagine. It's the kind of path that was once maintained and paved by the city, but has fallen into disrepair and is now only occasionally used. Better yet, it's the kind of path dating to a time when there was once an advanced civilization in the Pacific Northwest, now largely forgotten, leaving only perplexing remains of their greatness, and a reminder of the glory we are capable of.
Now you run down the path, dodging the omnipresent blackberry vines that grow with a
productivity rivaling rabbits, till you come to a steep set of stairs in the middle of the greenbelt. The path and stairs are both merely ruins, and so you must be careful heading down the stairs. Below is mud paths, and a blue tent where a homeless guy lives permanently. Further in, you come to a broad track that cars can use, or lovers wandering through the woods. A bit less romantic though, considering the I-5 immediately adjoining, as you can see. So you give up transcendental sound for the images. But this road through the woods is forbidden to trespassers- unless you enter from the top, where there are no signs, and it's a public path, if erratically maintained. And if you continue on to the right, under two overpasses suitable for a person of 5' in height, you come straight down into SoDo and the buslines, less than 10 minutes from my house.
.
This is how I like to travel. To discover some place unknown and secret- or at least a place that I convince myself is so. Then to head pell-mell into it, regardless of the consequences, risking life and limb, as fast as I can, until I come to the place of vista.
That's where you stop, and rest, and saleh, contemplating God in all His glory.
.
This is how I approach life. I want the mystery, the numinous, the undiscovered country. I want the adrenaline and the excitement and the risk. I'm not so much about the journey as the getting there. But then I want to take it in and to rest in God, simply enjoying. For me it is not that the journey is what it's about, but rather that the goal is the journey. The real journey doesn't begin until I get to that new place, and that new state of being.
This past week I discovered a secret path. I love secret paths. This one goes down straight from my house through the greenbelt to industrial SoDo below the hill. You go down some steps,
below fallen trees from the last storm, till you come to an overgrown blackberry bush-laden path. So I wasn't the first to discover it. I can imagine. It's the kind of path that was once maintained and paved by the city, but has fallen into disrepair and is now only occasionally used. Better yet, it's the kind of path dating to a time when there was once an advanced civilization in the Pacific Northwest, now largely forgotten, leaving only perplexing remains of their greatness, and a reminder of the glory we are capable of.Now you run down the path, dodging the omnipresent blackberry vines that grow with a
productivity rivaling rabbits, till you come to a steep set of stairs in the middle of the greenbelt. The path and stairs are both merely ruins, and so you must be careful heading down the stairs. Below is mud paths, and a blue tent where a homeless guy lives permanently. Further in, you come to a broad track that cars can use, or lovers wandering through the woods. A bit less romantic though, considering the I-5 immediately adjoining, as you can see. So you give up transcendental sound for the images. But this road through the woods is forbidden to trespassers- unless you enter from the top, where there are no signs, and it's a public path, if erratically maintained. And if you continue on to the right, under two overpasses suitable for a person of 5' in height, you come straight down into SoDo and the buslines, less than 10 minutes from my house..
This is how I like to travel. To discover some place unknown and secret- or at least a place that I convince myself is so. Then to head pell-mell into it, regardless of the consequences, risking life and limb, as fast as I can, until I come to the place of vista.
That's where you stop, and rest, and saleh, contemplating God in all His glory.
.
This is how I approach life. I want the mystery, the numinous, the undiscovered country. I want the adrenaline and the excitement and the risk. I'm not so much about the journey as the getting there. But then I want to take it in and to rest in God, simply enjoying. For me it is not that the journey is what it's about, but rather that the goal is the journey. The real journey doesn't begin until I get to that new place, and that new state of being.
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