Living My Hike

I had a realization after coming home from a hike the other day.  (Keep in mind that I'm a hopeless analogizer— I find metaphors or object lessons in much that I do and find it hard to stop my introspection)  My hike gave me a renewed sense of peace with some questions about my future.   I got up early and decided to take a quick hike before my day began.  I drove up the road and parked by the trailhead.  In the spot where I had to climb over a few fences to continue on the path, four cows stood in my way.  This only made me a little nervous.  Having the trail there, I figured they were used to people passing through, so I climbed over and appreciated the way they courteously repositioned themselves so that we could avoid crossing paths too closely.  

Once over the fences, I climbed the rocks through the woods along the side of a creek, up across a bridge where I could hear the rushing water.  Further up the path, I ducked under a felled tree and appreciated a multitude of pink lady slipper flowers along the fern-covered forest floor.  I journeyed forward, smiling with thanks for my quick reflexes that enabled me to close my mouth just as a bug tried to get inside.  

So why do I share all this, and what does it have to do with questions about my future?  Well... if my hike is like my life, knowing what lies ahead is not as interesting or enjoyable as what is right in front of me.  What kind of a boring hike would it be if I knew exactly what I'd find around each twist and turn? Why should it matter so much if I know what is at the end of the trail?  I know there are reasons for making plans and having a concept of future, but at the same time, there are probably people like me who have to stop themselves from getting too concerned about something that's too far ahead to justify bothering about right now.  Besides, if something wonderful happens further up the path, I might rather not know so that I don't rush on past the good that's here today.  Let me enjoy my cows and flowers!