There are many ways to get from here to there, depending on variables such as distance, destination, desired speed, and a spoken or unspoken longing. I’ve driven and ridden in cars of all shapes and sizes, buses, motorcycles, and bicycles, over paved or gravel roads, highways, and interstates. Other modes of transportation also exist to get me across land or water—boats, trains, and airplanes.
Interstate driving is the quickest way to drive from here to there, serving the purpose of getting goods and people from one place to another with as little trouble as possible. State highways exist for areas that aren’t serviced by the interstate system. City streets take me short distances to visit parks, restaurants, family, friends, and businesses. Then there are the iconic, scenic highways and byways, and the even smaller roads that take me deep into forests.
All of these surfaces are designed to get people and products from one place to another.
Our lives can be seen as roads that take us from one point in time to another. Sometimes, our lives seem to rush past as if we are on an interstate, heedless of our surroundings, just pursuing our destinations. Childhood and adolescence can seem like this—from the child’s point of view as well as from the parents’. Life just seems to move too fast. Other times, if we are not fully awake to our lives, it can feel as if we are on cruise control or autopilot.
It’s slower going when there are stoplights and stop signs on our live’s minor highways. Maybe those stops represent milestones—birthdays, graduations, weddings, funerals—times that force us to take stock of our surroundings, really seeing where we are and where we are going. Other of life’s paths are like scenic byways as we slow down to enjoy the view, paying close attention to the road, mindful of the journey itself. There are ascents and descents, tight hairpin turns and arrow-straight portions.
But for the journey to the deepest part of ourselves, our god-spark or essence, we have to take the sometimes unmarked forest service road into the deep wild woods. The way may be slow and tedious, and we may have to rely on our instincts to know the direction we should take.
At some point, we will have to exit the security of our vehicle and go further by foot. I have a teacher who uses the metaphor of this vehicle to symbolize our ego. It’s the protective shell in which we travel through life. Stepping out of the automobile, we may encounter a trail that is wide and clear, but often it is a single-wide track, or a branching path with more than one possibility of travel. It may offer little guidance, nothing to mark “You are here.” Maybe we have packed a trail map, but it’s also possible that we will have to blunder blindly into the forest, following a tug or thread.
But even when we meet our true selves, there at the point of encounter with the Divine, the journey is not yet complete. Our journeys never are. Unlike roads and highways, the road to personal growth is spiral. We find meaning at that point, but it usually leads us further or back around at a different level.
Because the journey is the destination.