For the past few days, I have been out of town, taking a little time to work on a project that is close to my heart and soul. This trip is, for me, the first time that I have been away from home without my trusted pod companions since before the pandemic began. In fact, I can’t remember the last time that I was away and on my own.

I’ve been getting a lot done, and you will eventually hear more about that, when it is time. Today, though, I took some hours away from my efforts to enjoy the nature around me. That’s right, even when you are doing something so important and meaningful for your spirit (or maybe, especially when), you need a break. And I couldn’t help it, the trees were calling my name.

Just a few miles from my temporary location, I found a beautiful lake with a trail all around the shore, my favorite kind of trail. I have to confess that as I walked I could not help but think about my beloved Kanuga and the time I spent there while studying with the Haden Institute. First thing in the morning and again during our afternoon sabbath time I walked the grounds — sometimes through the Franciscan chapel and up the trails where the creeks flow from the hills all around, sometimes along the edge of the lake that forms the center of the property.

Today’s walk reminded me so much of the first time I followed the Kanuga lake trail. As I started around the return side of the lake this morning, just as at Kanuga, the trail became more difficult. There were more rocks, more ups and downs, more twists and turns and other difficulties than on the first half of the walk. You just can’t tell that when you start a trail. There is no way to predict the shift in difficulty, but by the time you reach that point in your walk, retracing your steps would take too long and so you keep going. I know, there’s a metaphor there.

The other thing that reminded me of Kanuga? The end of the trail and its lack of clarity. The closer I was to the expected end of the trail this morning, the less I was sure where it was going or how it would end. I saw the shore of the lake and I passed it. I saw the parking lot and I passed it. The end was counter-intuitive; it continued, long past the parking lot. I was beginning to get worried, until I came to a place where there was a sharp turn back to the right. Only then did I know that I was going to be okay (I always get extra nervous when hiking alone). The experience was just the same the day I first walked that trail at Kanuga; the end was not clearly marked and I ended up among the cabins at that end of the lake. I was so sure that I was lost, but I was not. I was just not where I expected to be.

Yea, I know. The lessons are obvious, so obvious that I won’t summarize them for you. But it is always good to be reminded of these things in an easier way, with a pleasant stroll through a beautiful forest next to a shining lake rather than something dire and dangerous. But I am glad I wore the hiking boots and took my sticks! Having the right tools for the journey really helps.