The Right Time

When I was a teenager, I walked a lot.  I grew up in Brooklyn, New York, and when I went to high school, I was far enough away from the school to merit a bus pass. 

That bus pass was great; just get on and flash it to the driver.  Sometimes I was even able to use it after school hours if the bus driver didn’t look too closely, or a lot of people were getting on the bus at one time.

But still I walked a lot.  My school was some two miles away, but the terrain was flat, and the forty-five minutes or so it took me to walk that distance gave me a chance to think about things.

What did I think about?  Stuff.  I can’t exactly remember my thoughts, but I remember the experience.  I remember I used to invent stories from the tiniest piece of information, like seeing two people  talking or an odd-shaped object on the ground.

And so I walked.  In Brooklyn and perhaps other cities and towns,the blocks were laid out in a grid, twenty blocks to the mile. I could always look at the street signs and tell where I was on my journey, and how far I had left. 

Now I live in Myrtle Beach.  I still like to walk, but the streets are not laid out in the uniform, grid-like pattern of my youth.  In the city of Myrtle Beach,  developers have altered land lots to configurations that suit them, not to a uniform plan.  It is more comforting to walk the regularity of the numbered blocks in the old town near the beach. 

In the mid and far west of our country, the farm and ranch areas, there are only mostly straight roads outside of the towns; roads that stretch for miles with only an occasional break for a house or crossing road.

I still walk and think today.  What do I think about?  Stuff.  Random thoughts that entertain me for the moment.  And that is where I came to this revelation.

We are all on individual journeys.  Some of us are able to see our journey as walking a grid, always knowing our position and able to estimate where we will be at a certain time. 

Some of us are not quite sure where we are, because our landmarks are not laid out quite so neatly.  Events in our lives have altered the expected path, and we may not be quite sure when we will  arrive.  We deal daily with the twists and turns life sends us, and hope we are at least going in the right direction. 

We could (and sometimes do) give up our lives of uncertainty and continue our journey on the familiar numbered streets.  That travel is predictable; not always dull, but safe.   We give up the path where we take pride in our ingenuity, enjoying the challenges of finding our way. 

Some of us travel the long road.  We move ahead, striding purposely toward the distant horizon, keeping our goals before us.  We make choices at roads that cross our path, whether to follow new directions, and at passing houses, where we might stop and rest, for a while or for good. 

Moving forward is the key to enjoying the journey.  Whether we predict, plan or guess our goals or next move, the hope that things will be better for us when we get there keeps us going. 

We never get “there.”  Each time we reach a milestone, we look forward; either seeing our goal closer or choosing a new ‘there.”  And somewhere along the road we come to the end of our journey, and cannot travel further. 

Prisoners are punished not only by taking away their freedom to travel, but by limiting their lives to routine sameness.  They are prevented from moving forward in their journey. 

Look back now and then at the road traveled.  Ask yourself these questions.  Are you moving forward?  Are you enjoying your journey?  And is it your own?   

Enjoy your experience.