Where Paths are Unpaved
Two years ago I quit my corporate job in a desperate search for change — relief from the stifling chains of bureaucracy, a re-positioning of priorities, and clarity on the values that I wanted to abide my life by. I was just about to start a new opportunity and had a week to kill, so I took a mini pilgrimage of sorts to Starved Rock, Illinois for a day of hiking and reflection at the crux of shifting seasons.
That October day remains visceral in memory — the feeling of utter freedom and joy upon leaving the city accompanied by the anticipation that hovered at the brink of fresh adventure. Starved Rock was quintessential fall, full of brilliant color, a lingering warmth colliding with the pervasive October chill, the crispness of breath, and the vibrant sounds: the sounds of leaves crunching underfoot, the sounds of birds and crickets chirping in melodious chorus, the sounds of waterfalls cascading over unseen valley highs, and the sounds of silence when there was nothing at all.
Each enclave was a treasure, a hiding spot, a resting place to simply marvel at the beauty of the natural foundations that had been weathered and gloriously molded by time. Symbols of change effervescent in the streaks of color painted by constant streams of water, in the ancient trees that were hallowed and carved, and even in the homages to lovers and lives carved in stone where hands could create and shape the course of whimsy idolatry.
Time had molded these stately homages to creation and it was there among these towering spectators that I contemplated the changes shifting my own microcosm. Questions swarmed unfiltered across my mind keeping pace with my strides — I was in a state of flux, full of hope and overpowering fear. Where were my priorities? What were the states of all my relationships? How was I serving my community? Was I purely serving myself? What was I doing with all that life had to offer? Was I not doing nearly enough? Hours passed giving these subjects their due, and it was there surrounded by these timeless artifacts that I felt the gravity of being so small and humbled by how wholly minuscule my life was against the seismic fabric of time and space. I had no answers to any of these questions; my thoughts, flippant and trivial, seemed naive in their limited scope of understanding and centrality.
Fast forward 2 years later, almost to the exact day, perched on a ledge overlooking Lovers Leap at Starved Rock, I sat contemplating how time, filled with decisions, challenges, doubts, disappointments, successes and changes had ultimately culminated to bring me exactly here once again. How similar things felt and yet how different. Life had taken several turns and still no answers to any of those questions. Fresh perspective but no concrete answers. But in realizing how little I do know, I recognize that in the end it doesn’t matter where we are in our journeys, what material things we gain and lose over time, what jobs we have or aspire to, which successes and failures make a difference and which ones make no difference at all. What matters is how we engage with the present — how we perceive the minute details that shape every minute, and how the stories we weave are interspersed with the fabrics of others’.
How do we view the cards we are dealt? Do we attribute victories to a day’s hard work? By the efforts of our skill, talent, and perseverance? Do we see losses as the result of others’ shortfalls or do we blame ourselves for our perceived shortcomings? Are we avoidant? Confrontational? Dissatisfied with where we are and impatient to get to wherever is next? Are we so future-looking that we miss out entirely on the present? Or do we recognize that nothing on this world is promised or guaranteed? That we are entitled to nothing but are granted the privilege of living one more day even if those days are fraught with pain, suffering, and tears?
We desperately seek answers, seek to know the future even as much as we fear the change that incurs it. We seek peace in the storm and the assurance of calm even as we delight in the thrill of thunder. We desire to do more, accomplish more, become more, even as we become more inclined to settle for routine. We are perplexing and contradictory, endlessly seeking. And we should continue to seek, to develop, to grow, but to do so with as much appreciation for the journey as the outcome, and with the full confidence that things will not go our way. The roads ahead, divergent and winding, are filled with endless hopes, dreams, and outcomes beyond our imaginings. We will fail, we will wander, and we will get lost, but we must never lose sight that the shadows are simply reminders of the light ahead.
Two years ago I was lost, stressed, selfish, fearful — overly concerned with material gains, balancing moral checks, and cultivating a cloak of perceived imperviousness to reputation and judgment while craving the affirmation of societal construct. Two years later I am still as lost as ever — the path ahead dichotomous, unfathomably long. But it’s much brighter, paved with cherished memories and stops along the way for travelers to rest wearied feet and recount the tales from their preceding footsteps.
And this is my hope — that we never lose sight of the fear, the unease, the discomfort with uncertainty and risks — these harbingers of change for better or worse. Would that we never lose the hunger for progression, that it continues to stir and run strong, no less tempered by time or maturity. There can be no more potent testament to living a good life than living one with humility and gratitude. Humility to know how much we don’t know, humility to know how much independence stems from healthy dependence, and humility to know that a life lived alone is not living at all. And then there’s gratitude. Gratitude for how much we have been humbled, gratitude for the people who have shown much grace and taught what it means to give, and gratitude in how much growing and pruning we have yet to do.
Starved Rock, full of its hidden treasures, was a reminder of all these wonderful things. At one point I found myself at a copse among the trails surrounded by trees with the most vibrant yellow leaves I’d ever seen. Sunlight danced and cast a golden glow on falling leaves as silence reigned and every living thing seemed to hold its breath. Time faded and in that moment all I could see was blazing yellow, urging us onward and dancing to light the way ahead.
