A Pathless Land

Traveler, there is no path, The path is made by walking.  -Antonio Machado

The words I type at this very moment are pathless. No one has ever composed these words in this sequence, not in this moment, not with this intention.

These words are utterly fresh. The landscape they navigate is uncharted. This landscape is both exhilarating and terrifying. I want to stop writing and return to familiar ground. And I want to uncover new ground.

No matter. New ground happens.

Why the terror? Why the exhilaration?

Krishnamurti said truth is a pathless land. I scan the landscape behind me to calibrate. Surely there is a path that leads to now. I see the places I have been, the faces of those I was with there. I feel strongly as though I can see a path behind me.

My past is as pathless as my future. Pathless behind, pathless before.

Exhilarating and terrifying as always.