TWO PATHS
In the
woods which spread out over the sandy hills behind our farm there is a path. It
is wide but overgrown now. It wanders casually among the maple stands and
beneath the majestic walnuts and beech trees. In places, the old rutted
thoroughfare crosses politely back over itself to head off in another direction.
It’s just an abandoned maple sugaring trail, cut by hand and scratched into
the forest floor by years of horse, and later, tractor-drawn sleds pulling sap
to the sugar house. One day a man with a dream decided to put a new
highway through the middle of the forest.. And now, the pretty little
sugar path ends abruptly as it tries to head north, arrested by a welded wire
fence and sixty feet of concrete.
And that is exactly where I found myself one fine autumn afternoon. I paused
there, leaning on that fence, shrouded by a canopy of fiery maples and watched
the cars racing down their path
through the forest.. I’ve never been completely
comfortable with the ploughing up of farm lands to accommodate every cul de sac
and commuter, but it was not a sense of progress
driven sadness or loss that I felt
come over me resting there in the maple colored shade. Rather, it was the
remarkable contrast between the two paths before me which had converged at
exactly this place.
It
seemed to me that I had been at a place like this before; a place where a
reassuringly familiar and gentle
path
drew up alongside a less familiar but faster one. I recall being impressed with
the speed of the passers-by on that highway then. Their shiny cars and
those pretty signs with the names of exotic destinations overloaded my
senses and interrupted my thoughts. There was a fence there too I believe, and I
remember sitting on it for some time, before throwing myself over and
onto the concrete where I began
running along faster and faster until I had merged into the traffic and
was headed off somewhere... much too fast. I do not remember exactly which exit
I took from that highway or the day on which I returned home to the old
neighborhood and its slower paths. But I am here now, dappled with sunlight
shining through the wind-blown branches above me. And I am happier
here, with the snap of twigs and the crunch of leaves beneath my feet,
walking along a path which leads nowhere in particular. Race if you want to my
friend, speed along through the forest and over the streams on your way to
something. Breathe in the exhaust, and drive on into the night if you must, but
remember please, there is another road which passes through the forests just
over here beyond the fence. On your way by, watch at the edge of the woods, and
I will watch for you. And when you have had enough, come and walk on a leaf
strewn path which is not designed to take you anywhere, but to wind you back
around gently and keep you home.