Fighting the Trail

Despite my best intentions, I'm still fighting the trail. Feet are awkward, body unbalanced, movements clumsy.

Slipping. Sliding. Tripping. Stubbing. Banging. Bruising. Scraping.

However, it's not the physical battle that hurts.

It's the war inside my head.

Competing with people who don't know there's a race.

Angry with people who don't know they are a target.

Wishing I could change the past.

Lay down your armour.

Two newly-ordained Buddhist monks are walking to their monastery when they come across a pretty maiden at the banks of a rushing river. She asks if one of them could carry her across. The first monk says, "No. We have sworn a vow of chastity and cannot touch women." The second monk says, "I'll carry you across." He picks her up and sets her down on the far bank. The first monk is furious and harangues the other monk for several miles. "How could you carry that woman after you have sworn not to touch them? You have broken your sacred vows!" he says. Finally, the second monks turns around and says, "I put that woman down several miles back but you are still carrying her."

Pause.

Engage the senses.

What attracts you?

See the fantails following you for insects you disturb.

You are comical, too.

Smell the scent of earth.

You are grounded too.

Hear the clear notes of a tui's song.

You are a voice too.

Touch that water drop on a leaf.

You are liquid too.

Taste it.

You will dissolve one day too.

Time is short.

No more fighting the trail.

Drop it.

Walk on.

The trail is you and you are the trail.

Welcome to nature's therapy room.