"One of the most haunting experiences I have ever had as a man took place on an early summer day in Alaska. My family and I were kayaking with humpback whales in the Icy Strait and we stopped on the shores of Chicago Island for lunch.
While there, we decided to hike into the interior of the island. Grizzlies are known to feed here. Our guide led us to a trail of what seemed to be massive footprints, with a stride of about two feet between them, pressed down in to the bog and making a path through it.
“It’s a marked trail,” he said. A path created by the footprints of the bears. This is probably centuries old. For as long as the bears have been on this island, they’ve taken this path. The cubs follow their elders, putting their feet exactly where the older bears walk. That’s how they learn to cross this place.”
I began to walk in the marked trail, stepping into the firm, deep-worn places where bears had walked for centuries. I’m not sure how to describe the experience, but for some reason the word holy comes to mind. An ancient and fearful path through a wild and untamed place. I was following a proven way, laid down by those much stronger and far more prepared for this place than me. And though I knew I did not belong there, I was haunted by it and could have followed that path for a long, long time. It awakened some deep, ancient yearning in me."
The older I get the more I appreciate the ancient path that others have laid down for me. I am thankful for the deep worn places that my predecessors have left - marking a way for my journey.
No comments:
Post a Comment