The Path (A Meditation)

By Richard Hannibal, Retired Police Sergeant

A breeze drifts through the tall trees, and the morning sun sends shafts of light to a forest path. A nearby stream moves over smooth stones with increasing eagerness to reach the sea. Small animals scurry in the shadows, preparing for the coming day. A constant chatter in the treetops joins the morning concert, while butterflies dance in the advancing light.

A child skips down the path, chased by a playful brown dog. Gentle beings are startled and flee to the darkness of their shelters. The girl continues her journey, barely aware of the coolness on her cheeks. Her childish innocence senses the forest, but she does not understand its message. She and her dog continue over the hill, unmindful of the wonders they pass. The unseen creatures return to their morning chores and the chatter in the treetops resume.

The well-worn path runs through the dense forest, past a large moss-covered rock, and over a small hill. Things visible and spirits unseen are in complete harmony with the ancient redwoods, whose branches nod in swaying approval. The perfection of nature is seen only through the eyes of wisdom.

The angle of light changes through the trees as the sun moves slowly to the west. A teenage girl, preoccupied with the magic of first love, walks down the path hand-in-hand with a boy. Like the child, she is not conscious of the creation around her. The lovers continue in their youthful dream—intent on each other. They stroll by the moss-covered rock while a thousand eyes await their passing.

A branch snaps. A young woman hurries down the path. Her eyes focus on the ground ahead, and her wrinkled brow hints of the real and imaginary worries she carries. The early afternoon sights and sounds of nature go unnoticed. Her mind, clouded by lost love, only feels despair. She vanishes down the trail, not knowing where she has been or what lies ahead.

A mother carrying a baby approaches. Consumed by the unfamiliar responsibilities of parenthood and concern for the future, she continues on, blind to the miracle that surrounds her. Shadows broaden and treetop chatter decreases as the forest life prepares for the night.

Evening comes. A middle-aged woman appears. She walks slowly, stopping occasionally to breathe in the musk scent of the damp ground. Her long dark hair, streaked with gray, drapes over her slender shoulders. Brown eyes, framed with soft lines, take in the beauty of the moment. Her movement delivers her to a familiar place. She sits on the moss-covered rock, absorbed in the eternal now and the approaching night.

She remembers as a child, playing in these woods with her dog, but she cannot recall the total oneness she now feels with the giant trees and creatures living in the shadows. She thinks back to a day and a walk with a boy. She remembers being at this spot, filled with a troubled heart. At the time, she did not see a feather float past her to the ground, or feel the softness beneath her feet. Thoughts fill her mind of another day, long ago, with an infant in her arms. She recalls being too busy and scared to realize the perfect harmony of the forest.

"Why now?" she wonders. "Why do I now feel this oneness with the forest? Why do I now sense the wisdom of the ancient trees and the patience of the seasons?"

She watches the last rays of light grow dim. She smiles knowingly. It is the years! It is the years that bring the wisdom and understanding, molds the soul, and forges the heart. It is the years that brought her the peace and serenity she now feels. She closes her eyes, appreciating the passage of time that led her to this understanding. She takes a deep breath and with the promise of further wisdom, moves forward into new experiences, feeling a loving presence, and her place on the trail of life.

The path runs in a circle through the forest, never beginning and never ending. The woman realizes her annual trek will again take her through the trees and back to the moss-covered rock. As she had done many times, she would rest and reflect on the previous year.

In the fading light, a weary old woman arrives at the rock. She hesitates and gently lowers herself to the blanket of green. The creatures of the forest nuzzle up to her, causing her to relax in their gentle touch. A Scrub Jay lands softly on her shoulder and an orange veil of monarch butterflies encircle her. She closes her eyes and slowly lowers her hands to the cushion of moss. Soon, a radiant glow envelops her. The old woman's breathing becomes shallow. A final sigh leaves her lungs and she is still.

The woods are silent. The old woman becomes a mist that fills the air. The mist drifts, touching every part of the forest, becoming one with everything. Night has come. The moss-covered rock waits for the next visitor, and the forest is at peace.