The Path by Lynn Unger

Life the saying goes, is a journey, and who could argue with that?

We've all experienced the surprising turns, the nearly impassable swamp, the meadow of flowers

that turned out not to be quite so blissful and benign as we first thought, the crest of the hill where the road smoothed

out and sloped toward home.

Our job, we say, is to remain faithful to the path before us, which is an assumption as common

as it is absurd.

Really?

Look ahead.

What do you see?

If there is a path marked out in front of you, it was almost certainly laid down for someone else.

The path only unfolds behind us,

our steps themselves laying down the road. You can look back and see the signposts, the

ones you followed and the ones you missed. But there are no markers for what lies ahead. You can tell the story of how

you forded the stream or got lost on the shortcut that wasn't, how you

trekked your way to courage or a heart. But all of that comes after the fact.

There is no road ahead.

There is only the walking.

The tales we weave of our adventures and the songs we sing to call our companions on. You're going to be.

You know? Oh, You're going to be here.

You know.

Oh.

...