Do you ever get so far down a road that you can turn to both your left and your right and see that you have narrowed your gaze in the blindness of moving forward. Like walking into a tunnel that comes to a point, the structure that surrounds you narrows as you move forward, and yet you charge on. As you feel the pushback of the wind you create against your arms, you continue on. When you begin to feel the chill of the concrete that skims you shoulders you charge on, slower now, but still forward. Smaller and smaller become the walls around you, the ceiling slanting downward to meet your height as you inch forward. Your pace slows until there is no movement left to be had, you can neither turn back nor move forward. Awarded your stature by your unrelenting movement forward.
Quickly ignored were all of the open doorways at your side, quickly missed were all the trapdoors and ladders, until the gift of their presence had expired. Each of them a risk too heavy to weigh against a future you participated in the manifestation of. So onward you went until at your destiny you arrived. For others this is the perfect place to land. Protected, in a place to catch you breath, having not missed an opportunity to arrive first.
For you though, you see the distance in front of you, almost as if through a telescope now. Held by your position. The responsibilities you have acquired in your sprint to the finish have become heavy now. Expensive momentary necessities that motivated your charge into the darkness. Counting backward now at the risks you passed up. The tunnels unexplored, the doors gone unopened. Here you have arrived, in great time, but with every curiosity you began with. The heaviest of the kit you hadn’t thought was with you.
Knowing everyone will arrive sooner or later, to stand parallel, just as you are. To shout back to them to slow down is your only charge. In your voice they don’t hear your status, your wealth or your purpose. All they hear is your plea to lessen their pace. The echo encouraging them to wander left and right, explore the passages you so readily passed. “We will all arrive” becomes your advice, “bring a story other than mine”.
Let’s take some risks. Have some adventures. Make some memories. Learn from our mistakes. Let’s fail once in awhile. At least we’ll have something to talk about.