P1K FOR WEDNESDAY





(Photo By David Pluth)


The Journey


There is a simple path to follow, that appears only when you calm your mind. It leads you on a beautiful journey back to your original self; the perfect, beautiful you.--Bryant McGill


My destination is in the distance. So far away, yet so close I feel as if I could reach out and touch it. Anticipation is palpable as I stand here in the cool shade of a massive pine, looking out over a ravine filled with beautiful cedar and birch. Breathing in the fresh earthy scents I close my eyes and center myself. This journey was one that I needed to fix my soul, the first step in toward healing myself from the inside out.


No one ever knows what pushes one person to take such an odyssey. Yet here I stand, alone, amongst the trees, wondering if I will even be fulfilled by reaching my providence. I set off once again, into the cool dank of the forest. My only company is the rustling of leaves and songs of birds high above my head in the canopy. Lumbering along, I realize I was never designed for such a trek. My frame a bit too heavy, and steps a bit too careless  for a trail-less hike. Yet the trees don’t care what I look like, and the birds will sing even though I am not fair. Dare say I, the animals won’t regard me for my beauty when they devour my remains upon my death.


When I took the first step on my thousand mile journey I felt a release. The strings that held me to my simple world cut, recoiling, and giving me the push I need to soldier fourth along the road to the unknown. Yet, at the same time, there is an absence there. A type of fear that I have never known building within the hollow of my chest, making me feel like I am on the edge of an emotional break I can’t control. The farther I roam, the more intense the felling.


No one wakes up one day and just decides to leave it all behind. There is a buildup of pain that has to push you over that ledge. Whoever said you are only given as much as you can handle was never given a heavy burden to bear. For me it was never how much I could take, but how much I was willing to shoulder. That weight just pushes you farther and farther down until you are unrecognizable, crushed under the life that you created for yourself, unable to walk away out of fear.


Just the thought of doing something so selfish is petrifying to someone like me. Living one’s whole life seeking the approval that was never given, the love that was never received. People like me are in a constant state of panic. The questions, the anxiety over menial events, the lack of passion for life because it is scary to think of anything beyond just getting through the present day.  Putting everyone else’s needs, wants, feelings before your own is easier, because then you don’t have to focus on yourself. In reality you are the one who needs the most help. Even if the only help is a hand to hold or a shoulder to cry on.


The day I left I reached my limit. There was literally nothing left of myself to give. I had exhausted every last bit of everything I had in me to be strong. Tears rolled down my face as I kissed my child on the head and sent her off to school. As she walked away I tucked a letter in her book bag, and along with it the last piece of my heart.  I convinced myself that it was better this way, because it was all I have left to hold on to. As the bus pulled away I climbed into my car and drove, not knowing where , until my pretentious luxury SUV ran out of gas, and I started to walk.


Two long weeks I have been out here.  Searching for what? I may never know. The decision to reach the sisters was impulsive, and careless to say the least, but I am sticking with it.  Having a destination made this whole quest seem valid. Though I may never reach the base of the mountains, I have occupied my brain with plans of what I will do once I arrive.  Should I go back to civilization and try to resume a normal life? Do I build myself shelter and attempt to live off the grid? Can I just keep walking? Walk until there is no more land and then straight into the water.  I ponder the last option a little longer than I should.


I wasn’t prepared for this trek through the woods. Gathering all of the empty water bottles from the SUV, along with anything else useful I could carry, I headed off into the brush. I am surprised I have lasted as long as I have having no actual survival skills. Yet somehow when I run low on food a berry bush will be around the next corner, and when my water bottles are drained, I find a stream. Looking for shelter starts early afternoon, and I am sure to find it by nightfall.  Some would say I have a guardian angel, but I just call it pure dumb luck. The fact that I have done all this in canvas sneakers with a designer purse slung over my shoulder is nothing short of a miracle.


Plodding along beneath the blanket of trees, I realize something for the first time.  No matter how much my heart longs for my little girl, no matter what the outcome of this journey is, this will be the first time I actually lived.  This will be the first time I thought of no one else but myself. In all my years, this is the first time I was actually free.



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