A Walk on the Tracks

I’ve been plagued by a problem of late with which has stymied my doctors, as they can find no reason for it, so I just live with it. But because I believe that there are no accidents, and that life doesn’t happen to us – it happens for us…I have been in quest of the reason for this malady, and what message and gift it is bringing me. The problem is dizziness – everything from extreme, nauseating vertigo at times, to just a tilting sensation, that will occasionally send me walking shoulder first into walls, and knees first into furniture. Kind of embarrassing at times, as I think I must look quite like a drunk – which is not the way I want to portray myself at Wal-Mart at 10:00 in the morning!

So yesterday was not a good day in the whirling and twirling department, and I almost passed up the opportunity to walk our dogs down the railroad tracks beside our house on a crisp, cool, perfect fall morning. It would have been much easier to just stay at the computer writing, or puttering in the kitchen, whose 12 x 6 feet of space is far more forgiving than the wide open tracks. But I donned my walking boots and went anyway – feeling a bit like I was playing hooky from the three 5-gallon pails of pears that need to be put into jars!

I was listing starboard as we walked through the park and onto the tracks. By the time we reached them, however, I felt like I had a handle on the spins. It was a short-lived feeling of balance. As soon as we got onto the tracks, I realized that in order to maintain my balance and not trip and fall, I had to stare directly down at my feet, and the railroad ties underneath them. Some ties that were very old and in poor repair left treacherous shelves and ledges which threatened to send me tumbling if I took my eyes off them for even a step. Every now and again I would look up – after all, the colors on the turning trees and gatherings of birds were half the ambiance of a walk in the cool air! How could I enjoy this walk without being able to glance about?

I was, at first, more than a little frustrated by the whole thing, and almost decided to rain on everyone’s parade and suggest we put this off for another time. But all it took was to look at the dogs – tails wagging, tongues hanging out, smiling from ear to ear – to change my mind and tough it out. And I’m so glad I did.

As we walked slowly along, I had to content myself with the view at my feet.   Stones, tie, stones, tie…over and over and over…one foot after another. The rails themselves seemed to collapse inward onto my scope as I walked along. When I would tire of the view, I would look up, and promptly start to lean in one direction or the other, balance myself on Mark’s arm, and look down again. So rather than be disappointed, I made the conscious choice to look upon this as a lesson in the learning.

I began to focus first on the railroad ties. How old were they, anyway? Look at the different ways they decayed or held together. What made some of them sturdy and strong, while others looked feeble and weak, and had you questioning their ability to hold the rails in place? Where did they cut them from? What kind of trees were they? What happened to the rest of them? How come some of them bled creosote and oil, while others appeared dry? In short, they became a source of interest – something to think about, to ponder, to notice.

Then I began to focus on the rocks between the ties. What a geological find! There were stones and rocks of every representation. Some of them were sharp, granite flakes that looked like chips off the old tombstone. Some were flaky lime with stratified layers. Some clearly had spent a century or two under water somewhere, and were as round and smooth as marbles. A whole new set of ponderings accompanied my contemplation of the rocks. Awesome.

And then there were my feet. Step one, left, right, a little longer step, a little shorter step, another step…over and over. Balance while looking down and calculating each foots safe landing became far easier.

And then I began to think about my life. How much this is just like that. I want a smooth path that is effortless to walk on, so I can gaze around and notice all the trees and leaves and flowers and fields. The blue sky; the full moon on a summer night; the deer grazing in the field at dusk. I want to look out over the horizon at the sunset, and not think about what’s under my feet and where they will step.

But my road is not like that. There is not much to be had in the way of smooth travels. It’s rocky and precarious. And perhaps because of a lack of balance, I am forced to look down – at my here and my now. At my each and every step. Not just to make sure my feet have a safe landing – but to appreciate and savor all the little details that make my road resemble more of an old railroad than a country lane – or even a super highway.

The path that I am on is paved with millions of stones – each one unique, with a history and story all its own. Each represents an incident, a person, a teaching, an experience – from the smallest of details to the largest of impacts. They all make my road what it is. Varied and diverse – old and new – together they form the road that is mine to take. All it takes is a consciousness of them to actually appreciate them!

The ties are my points of stability. It’s much easier to gain footing on them than it is on the rocks. Some have stood the test of time. Others…not so much. Some are the stability that makes me feel very balanced – but life is not static, and so I move to the next one, which may or may not have weathered as well, and may or may not be a place where I can rest my foot for any length of time. And so on to the next, and so on, and so on.

Which leads me to ask myself the question: Where am I going, anyway?

Today's answer was: Home. We were out for a short walk, and the destination was home again after some exercise and fresh air. And so at what we determined was the half-way point, we turned back around, and headed toward home.

Like a horse that sees his stable from the end portion of the trail, I really wanted to pick up the pace. I had food to can. I don’t want to look at anymore rocks or ties or narrowing rails. Just want to pick up the pace and get home to can my pears. But, like my life again, just when I think I have the greatest idea, the Universal brakes go on, and I am asked, “Where are you going in such a hurry? Want to see the coolest rocks ever? Slow down – enjoy your experience, and appreciate what it is I’m showing you. In this, there is balance!”

I look up one more time. I got smart this time – I stopped walking to do it! Up ahead about a half mile was the overpass bridge where we started. It symbolized HOME. And is sure seemed like a LONG way off! With a sigh, I bowed my head again, looked at the ties and rocks and my very own feet and started toward it.

I began to think of things I have heard over the years – inspirational things that pertained to our road of life, our faith, our beliefs – our quality of life here on the planet. I began to think that perhaps it was far better to spend my time this morning contemplating the meaning of rocks and railroad ties than it was to dwell on the bills I can’t pay, or the colds that are running through the kids and the house. Maybe today is better spent appreciating the fact that I have two feet that work quite well for all their aching and paining and despite the dizziness issuing from the head where the controls are. 

I had recently heard author Jack Canfield point out that you can drive all the way from New York to California in the dark – as long as you have headlights to illuminate the next 200 feet or so. And I gave that quite a bit of thought. Here on the tracks, with my inner ears giving me grief, I couldn’t even see 200 feet ahead! But I was guided by the rails, I had the best companions I could have hoped for, and they could see clearly what was up ahead. The important thing for me now was just to maintain my balance – and have faith in the Universe and its laws – and trust my traveling companions.  And I will make it HOME.

I thought about the beauty I missed on a daily basis, because perhaps I have been too forward focused – trying to direct the forces of the Universe, instead of allowing it to reveal its order to me. Have I been so busy trying to engineer my life that I am resisting the flow of the Universe? Have I been overlooking the very building blocks of my life’s puzzle because I’m too busy staring at the picture on the box? Have I spent more time complaining that I don’t have the birds-eye-view and  the long term solutions to my problems than I have being grateful for all that I AM, and all the little things that make life interesting and rich?

I realized then that it’s not until I can maintain my balance reckoning the little details of life that I will be able to look up with steadiness and see that – hey…there’s the bridge! We are almost home!