When you start out walking late, a few clouds can be a good thing. There’s a metaphor for life in there somewhere, I think.

Cloudy days held mystery and intrigue when I was young, but it seems the older I get, the more I love sunshine. Nevertheless, in the heat of summer, a few clouds are a good thing.  Here’s something else I learned while walking:  the most beautiful path is not the easiest. Put differently, just because a path is the most beautiful, and in taking it you have made a right choice, it does not follow that the path will be easy.  Indeed, my beautiful path this morning was quite rocky and difficult and even dangerous for the inexperienced or unprepared.

 I had chosen a new location to add variety to my walk. Only one other car was parked at the trailhead and I did not see another human for the next 60 minutes. The solitude was welcome. One thing I have learned about walking is that it is a component of my mental, emotional and spiritual health as well as my physical health. Often, when I walk, I have a specific question or challenge in mind.  Today’s question was a choice: 

Do I want to be a writer strongly enough to be willing to live with my parents until I establish an income; verses; Do I value my independence and solitude deeply enough to warrant seeking a job that steals from my writing time, but insures my independence?

 Straightaway, as I began the ascent of Eagle’s Wing, my thoughts started coalescing, forming sentences and turning phrases that would become chapters in my book, explanations and histories for why my characters are created thus. A couple of short commentaries, essays of human interest fell into place. I could hardly wait to get back to my desk and write while the ideas were fresh. Was this, then, the answer I was seeking? 

The trail veered ever farther toward the left, then righted, and took me through beautiful desert boulders and vegetation; along a ridge still cooled by sunrise shadows.  Soon, I began to wonder if my question was moot. Perhaps it did not matter whether I wrote or lived independently. Perhaps I would never get back. My writing inspiration took a turn toward children of Israel wandering in the wilderness. It turns out Eagle’s Wing is not a loop.  Neither is Holy Cross. It might take me an extra 10 miles to get back to my car.

I am usually obedient to the posted signs. Not once did I leave the trail.  Nor did I ever lose sense of where my car was located.  It’s just that the trail did not go directly to the car. The terrain as the crow flies was much too rugged to traverse.

In order to stay on the trail, one must walk forward, or retrace the steps taken in error.  This too, is a metaphor for life. When you mount up on eagle’s wings, do not expect to take a leisurely soar and boomerang to square one.  Nor is the way of the cross circular.