My life's version of Pilgrim's Progress
I came to a fork in the road. Two remarkably different roads diverged from the fork.
Everything I wanted was down the rough road. Everything I didn’t want was down the easy/smooth road. Every day for decades I chose the easy road. I acquired a life I didn’t recognize, filled with other people’s goals and dreams.
And then one day I thought about that fork, and I started to wonder if I could go back and choose the other path. I wondered what my life would be like if I took the hard road. It started in the very edges of my thoughts and then over time it got more and more insistent until no thought, but it, could be held. Could I go back and try the hard road? Would I lose everything I acquired? Would I even care if I lost it? The risk seemed daunting.
So I edged back. I didn’t run, I didn’t dive and claw my way back... I edged, looking over my shoulder with every inch. And things started to fall away. Slowly, silently, almost imperceptibly things began to fade as I inched back.
Until one day I could see the fork in the horizon. The one I’d come to so many years ago. It didn’t look the same. It was overgrown and smaller than I remembered. The sign that had been huge in my mind was so small you’d pass it without a second thought if you weren’t looking for it. It was weathered and decaying. But as I grew closer I could see scratched into a board was an arrow, and under the arrow the words: The Truth. And then I moved closer and brushed some of the branches out of the way and in tiny letters I had to squint to read, it said: Don’t follow the crowd, they’re going the wrong way.
My immediate overwhelming feeling was anger. White hot rage filled my mind as I screamed at the silence around me. Why had no one warned me? Why had I been allowed to go the wrong way for so long? And what now? I feel so old, so ill equipped for the hard road. It looks rocky and steep. I’m not a good climber, I didn’t prepare for this! Did no one care?
And then the crushing pain, the warnings that were chirped in my ears when I was a child come rushing back. They did warn me. I didn’t understand. Or maybe I didn’t care. I chose wrong and it’s devastating. I wish I could’ve known back then. I wish I could’ve seen where I’d end up. I wish I’d known that age doesn’t bring wisdom in the way I thought.
And now I put my head down and inch forward on the hard road. Alone. Alone as I was told I would be, even as I didn’t want to believe it. And now the experiences and the comforts of the easy road haunt me. There are people over there, I wouldn’t be alone. But yet I trudge and inch and move on the hard road. And with my inches I feel hope and faith blossom. There’s fear here too. Doubts. What if the sign was wrong? What if it was posted by someone who didn’t really know The Truth.
Yet I inch. And this life, of inches, is where I remain, moving toward the Truth that feels so distant. And I am a traveler who wishes she were home.
Everything I wanted was down the rough road. Everything I didn’t want was down the easy/smooth road. Every day for decades I chose the easy road. I acquired a life I didn’t recognize, filled with other people’s goals and dreams.
And then one day I thought about that fork, and I started to wonder if I could go back and choose the other path. I wondered what my life would be like if I took the hard road. It started in the very edges of my thoughts and then over time it got more and more insistent until no thought, but it, could be held. Could I go back and try the hard road? Would I lose everything I acquired? Would I even care if I lost it? The risk seemed daunting.
So I edged back. I didn’t run, I didn’t dive and claw my way back... I edged, looking over my shoulder with every inch. And things started to fall away. Slowly, silently, almost imperceptibly things began to fade as I inched back.
Until one day I could see the fork in the horizon. The one I’d come to so many years ago. It didn’t look the same. It was overgrown and smaller than I remembered. The sign that had been huge in my mind was so small you’d pass it without a second thought if you weren’t looking for it. It was weathered and decaying. But as I grew closer I could see scratched into a board was an arrow, and under the arrow the words: The Truth. And then I moved closer and brushed some of the branches out of the way and in tiny letters I had to squint to read, it said: Don’t follow the crowd, they’re going the wrong way.
My immediate overwhelming feeling was anger. White hot rage filled my mind as I screamed at the silence around me. Why had no one warned me? Why had I been allowed to go the wrong way for so long? And what now? I feel so old, so ill equipped for the hard road. It looks rocky and steep. I’m not a good climber, I didn’t prepare for this! Did no one care?
And then the crushing pain, the warnings that were chirped in my ears when I was a child come rushing back. They did warn me. I didn’t understand. Or maybe I didn’t care. I chose wrong and it’s devastating. I wish I could’ve known back then. I wish I could’ve seen where I’d end up. I wish I’d known that age doesn’t bring wisdom in the way I thought.
And now I put my head down and inch forward on the hard road. Alone. Alone as I was told I would be, even as I didn’t want to believe it. And now the experiences and the comforts of the easy road haunt me. There are people over there, I wouldn’t be alone. But yet I trudge and inch and move on the hard road. And with my inches I feel hope and faith blossom. There’s fear here too. Doubts. What if the sign was wrong? What if it was posted by someone who didn’t really know The Truth.
Yet I inch. And this life, of inches, is where I remain, moving toward the Truth that feels so distant. And I am a traveler who wishes she were home.
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