Time whispers by.
I look at the path before me and the cool breeze fans my face. Flowers are growing alongside the soft dirt of the road, and their fragrance is welcome to my nose. Birds sing their cheerful song all around, making me feel joyful inside. Dawn is a fuzzy light in the distance, obscured by gentle mists. I pick up my feet and start down the trail, unsteadily at first. The farther I go, the clearer my world becomes. Trees budding with tiny flowers line my trail. The path seems to disappear quickly behind me as I skip eagerly on. Little birds and animals play hide-and-seek behind the trees on either side of me. I want to stop and play with them, or at least talk to them, but a voice I don't yet understand guides me ever so gently away and helps me keep to the path.
There are other paths, too many to count, and they all cross mine and intersect and sometimes even run right alongside my own special path. When this happens I am overjoyed and my new-found friend and I can enjoy the beauty and differences in our separate roads with each other. Some of the paths I encounter stay alongside mine for a long time, but they all wind away into the distance at some point.
Time dawdles by.
My world has become clearer now, but mists still shroud much of the landscape. I have a little bit more experience now on this path. I have fallen a few times. Sometimes I fall and am hurt only mildly; other times I retain scars from it and can never look at the scars without being reminded of what happened. Usually an unseen twist or unevenness in the path is the cause for my stumbling. Sometimes I get tired of keeping on the path and wander into the forest; once I got lost and couldn't find my way back to the road where I left it. I had to be helped back to my own path by a friend that I traveled with not too long ago. I have noticed this friend more and more often lately; his voice is so familiar. It seems as though we've met before, though I don't remember it. He never seems to leave, but stays beside me at all times. He does not seem to have a path of his own, but travels beside me where the way is more difficult, watching to see that I don't fall down or stray. It is strange to me to have constant company. Sometimes I can't see him; the trees are thick and clouds occasionally blot out my view. But I know somehow that he is still there. Many times I do not see him; it is only brief glimpses that tells me he is there at all. Most often I forget that I am not alone.
The sun is warm on my back and high in the horizon. I find that, even though I am usually content with the direction I'm going, sometimes I try to walk in the footsteps of those traveling alongside. I never cease to stumble when this happens. I am forced to look to my own path again and see the value in possessing it.
I have now acquired a sack which has a few little pebbles in it. The sack appeared mysteriously and I've learned many of my questions must go unanswered. I know exactly where most of the pebbles came from, but I can't remember all of them. Sometimes people who I think are my friend end up hurting me. They slip pebbles into my sack before they leave my path for the last time. I don't notice because my back is turned. Right now it doesn't bother me much. The pebbles are not very heavy.
Not everything that happens to me is bad. I have witnessed beautiful sights in the land. Baby animals are growing and frisking about, bees buzz about the fragrant flowers, and voices call out to me and to each other as we greet our company. Each day brings a new experience, a new path crossing mine, and a new landscape. Miles upon miles diminish under my feet. I skip and run and play as I go about, but I am also busy discovering my world. There are things about which I know nothing, and my inquisitive mind begins to question. Things are definitely not always as they seem! Little spiny caterpillars emerge from carefully spun cocoons into beautiful butterflies with dazzling, flashing colors. Fuzzy awkward chicks become graceful hawks that soar and dive overhead. Bumbling, gangly fawns grow to be magnificent does and bucks that leap and bound through the forest. Every living thing is changing.
Time loafs by.
My sack is much heavier now. The little pebbles that gather there occasionally turn into larger rocks when they are deposited into the load. The world turns faster and things look clearer than ever. I haven't seen my friend in awhile....I am wondering if he is still there. The last time I saw him, I was resting. I reminisce dreamily about the encounter.
I had grown tired of pacing along under the hot sun and had sat down beside my path. It was then that he appeared, following along my difficult trail. He had smiled down at me and offered to carry my burden for me. I smiled back and thanked him, but then said that I had a long way to go and I'd better start soon. My sack was not that heavy; I'd be all right. He patted me gently on the back with a special knowing look, as though he knew many things and was not about to give up.
I start along again. The burden of pebbles and rocks forces me to bow my back and heave it higher to keep it upon my shoulders. Rest is essential and I am short of breath, so I stop every mile or so to sit down. Struggling on, I pay scarce attention to the world around me. A path wanders near to mine, but the traveler who advances neither greets me nor offers me a drink. Soon they trot away into the distance. I am alone.
Finally as night falls I can walk no longer. Instead I cast the sack upon the ground and lay my head on it, back to the ground. Before the sun slips completely away, I observe how my surroundings have changed. The trees, which were once green and abundant with life, full of twittering birds and chittering squirrels, are silent. They spread their arms threateningly above me like ghosts. The wind that was so welcome at the journey's beginning is cold and shrill. No soft flowers grew alongside the path to decorate it with color....only dirt and gravel. No animals or people are in sight, and I am alone.
Time is hastening by.
Suddenly, a stick cracks sharply in the night. I jerk my head towards the sound, straining my eyes to see who or what is there. A rustling in the bushes, and thunder crashes overhead. I jump. Lightning splits the sky, and I shiver as a few cold raindrops splash my face. I hear a voice calling me now. I struggle to my feet and grab my sack, straining under its weight, and looking wildly around to find the voice. I know who it is! It is my friend! And he will help me. I hear another snapping sound from the woods, and thunder booms deafeningly close. I am very frightened, and start toward the forest, away from the path. My friend is calling me urgently now, away from the forest, but I cannot find him and I am afraid to stay there on the path where I am unprotected. As his voice echoes one last time, I run right underneath the mightiest tree in the forest as it is struck by a fork of white-hot lightning. Pebbles fly from my sack as I am propelled backward. Everything is dark.
I am walking towards a bright light. It seems to be close, yet far away. When I come to the point where I think I've reached it, a loud voice calls me. Answering quickly so that I may advance to the beautiful, bright, and luminescent place, I eagerly rush towards the door they've shown me. Opening it, the paradise is ripped from my eyes and a place of fire, torment, and death, replaces the image. Screaming, I turn back, only I am shoved into the room completely and the door slams in my face, eternally closed. My flesh simmers with heat and pain and I bang frantically on the door, screaming until my voice grows hoarse. Too late....too late...a voice calls to me....come home.....
My head is lifted gently as a few drops of water are poured into my mouth. I open my eyes and feel the warmth of a fire, burning uncomfortably near. As the world comes into focus I see a familiar face: my friend. He is staring intently at me, and when he sees I am awake he hugs me. I squirm slowly and painfully away, back from the heat. The dream still feels terrifyingly real. Seeing the panicked look on my face, the friend comforts me briefly; bringing me food, he helps me sit up to eat. The forest is dripping from last night's rain, and across the forest there is an empty place where the great tree has fallen. Spirals of smoke drift lazily upward in memory of the storm. The sun is again close to setting, and the silence is strange, as if all of nature is holding its breath. My body is in pain and everything hurts, but I am so tired that I fall asleep immediately.
The next day there is still food enough to last and I don't even try to get up. My whole body is damaged and painfully stiff; travel is impossible. My friend does not stay all the time but comes and goes, and I don't ask where or why. Every now and then he comes to bring me a pretty flower or more wood for the fire. That night I am more awake, and listen to the wind as it slips softly through the trees. I think about the pebbles in the sack and about my injuries. I hope they heal soon; they hurt very badly.
Time is scurrying by.
Today I am, clearly, to go on. My friend smiles at me so sweetly and takes my hands. He pulls me to my feet. I am still hurting, but I can now move a little at a time and can no longer rest. As I bend down slowly to pick up my sack, my friend reaches faster and hoists it up himself. I am learning to trust him, especially over these last few days, so I simply watch. He shoulders the burden easily, much more so than I can, and smiles. We start down the path together.
Even though it is much easier to travel without my sack of pebbles, it feels strange to be so empty-handed. I don't like to let him carry it for very long. Each time I bear it myself he seems to have to fade away into the trees for the time. Rough spots and broken trails line the path at this time, and stumbling is inevitable. Once more I am wounded; there is a place where the trail is completely broken off, and all that remains is a chasm that I must pass over. Unable to cross it myself, and too afraid to ask for assistance, I am thrown helplessly to the bottom and I do not even try to move. I am sure that this time nothing will save me. I will die here in this gorge, and no one will find me.
The sun sets, but not before I hear a friendly voice. I am so relieved to hear it that tears run down my face. My friend is there again. This time I submit wholly to his care. I have to rest for a long time, and heal. This fall will make it harder than ever to keep traveling, but I know with this man who has become my best friend that I will be able to do it. He knows exactly which herbs will help my wounds and where to find them, and is busy all through the days gathering wood for fire, keeping food plentiful, and finding medicines to doctor me. I am ecstatic to learn that two other paths actually lead down into the canyon and there are friends to help with the work. They seem to know my best friend well, and busy themselves at his side in caring for me.
Time is slipping by.
I stand for the first time in many miles, alone and unaided. I am again independent, yet I have grown to love these three friends so much that I allow myself to rely on others for the first time in my entire journey; I have learned to trust, and hope they will stay with me.
It happens exactly that way. Three paths cut into the rugged earth together; the friends never leave me. My very best friend walks in between us, using no trail but the one we allow him to share. The broken edges and hurdles and uneven patches in the trail is handled together now, and when one of us falls, we help them up. If one of us is hurt, the others care for them diligently until they are restored. My best friend is never hurt, although he shares the pain of the afflicted ones as though he has felt it before....long, long ago.
Time has rushed by.
Today is like every other day. We are noticing the trees and flowers blooming, and birds beginning to spread songs through the air again. Trickling water is heard from far away, and fresh scents are borne on the gentle breeze. What is this? It is a fork in the road. But no! It is a mistake. We are all happy just the way we are: together. My best friend smiles and gently prompts us ahead. As we all approach the strange trail, we can see clearly now that our paths each lead a different direction. Looking around at each other, we cannot move. No one wants to make the decision. It is my best friend that finally steps forward and takes the first friend down their path. The other two of us are left to sit down by the road and think about the one that is leaving. I remember that they were the first to hike the dangerous trail down to me in the gorge. The next day, only one returns; my best friend. He smiles at us secretively as though he is withholding delightful information. Then he takes the other by the hand and leads them away, as before. I am alone. I wonder if he will come back, but I do my best to trust him.
He is back the next day. I am the only one left. His cheerful spirit is unchanged, and he takes me by the hand. With my burden on his back (I am no longer able to carry it because it has grown so heavy), we start down my solitary trail. We are alone. The road is now so easy I wonder if we are really on the right one, but the pain of remembering my departed friends still hinders me so that I can barely walk. I lean on my last and best friend more than ever now, and loneliness grips me with a bittersweet stab.
I see something in the distance that has never appeared before: it looks like a gate. It is huge, with bars that seemed to touch the sky, and mists curl around it so that only a faint and glowing light can be seen from within. As we tread the last mile, the path stops just before the gate; the road has dropped off into nowhere. I can't even see the bottom of the great divide. My friend keeps going, unbothered, right to the edge of the cliff. I stop now, and he turns to reassure me. There is no way I can jump across this, I think to myself. What am I to do? My friend pulls lightly on my hand, and though I am scared, I look into the eyes that I have loved and trusted and know that as long as my journey continues I will go with him....anywhere. Trembling, I jump over the edge of the cliff with him and feel nothing else.
The gates open for my friend and he carries me inside. It is just as I dreamed so long ago, when I lay dying under the burning tree. I am in a place of light and warmth and sweet carols trilling in the background. I seem to be different: I do not limp, and gaze wonderingly where my scars have been; they are gone. Then I hear a joyful shout. Looking up, I see my other two friends rushing toward me. They look so different! We are all wearing white robes and have been transformed into something we've always dreamed of being. Embracing each other, we turn towards a great mansion that my friend shows us, and start inside. I sing a song quietly with the music that fills the air, and I notice that as we walk toward the mansion, hand in hand, the other inhabitants of this beautiful place are bowing down to my best friend. Looking at him, all the mists are cleared away, and with the realization that comes upon me, I bow down too. Smiling, he pulls me to my feet and we enter. We all have much to say and an eternity to say it.
Time is no more.
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