Yesterday I convened an emergency meeting with the trees. I know we’re in the middle of summer holiday, but important issues begged to be addressed, so I fled deep into thick forest, sat on the bushy needly earth and pleaded my case. I needed guidance and I needed it now.
Getting there was tricky. I had to follow a series of blue ribbons tied to the trees, each ribbon obscured from view until I actually arrived at the next ribboned tree. So I couldn’t see the path beyond the next tree. There wasn’t really even a path. At points the growth was so thick I scraped myself squeezing through scratchy thicket; there were moments when I feared I would lose my way. We will not ask why I was so obsessive in my mission to arrive at the hidden heart of the forest….suffice it to say that I was. I prefer those paths that are clear and quaint, not necessarily well trodden, but easily identifiable, with those comforting little wooden signs you see in The Wilderness, arrows carved in them, confirming that you are indeed on the right path. Sometimes there simply are no markers in sight. This puts me way out of my comfort zone, headed just a few steps down the trail in near blindness.
What is the next move? I inquired, not impolitely. It was so thick there were not even any birds. Apart from three yellow butterflies, I was alone. I waited.
Then as the pines whispered and I sat pondering the strange and sometimes unnerving journey through the deep woods, I got it: Sometimes we are only given directions to the next blue ribbon, where we must wait patiently for the next move.
Diary of a Pilgrim 