The Valley

Prelude

I sit on the edge of the cliff gazing down into the valley. It is a magical place and holds me captivated.  I've heard all the stories about it, how treacherous it is, yet how exciting, how much fun it can be but that it can only be visited with another.  It is not a place one can venture into alone.  It holds the mysteries of adulthood.  I yearn to get started on my journey into the valley, all I need now is my companion.

All along both edges of the valley high up on the cliffs are others like me, treading their own paths along the cliff edge.  Some have been to the valley and tell whimsical tales of fun, caring, love and tenderness; others tell only of the dangers, the hurt, the abandonment and their scars.  There are some who simply came back out of the valley and settled back into treading their own paths on the cliff top.  They rarely even glance back into the valley and seem quite content on the cliff top.

Then there are the others like me, searching for a companion to take into the valley.  We look into each others eyes, trying to see deep into the soul, trying to find just the right companion, and then move on searching, not quite sure exactly what the right companion looks like.

The beginning

I am so excited, I have found the absolutely perfect companion to take with me into the valley and we're just starting on our journey.   Everyone is giving us advice, reminding us that we have to help each other that we cannot do the journey alone.  We just smile at each other knowing that we'll help each other and that we're committed to journeying in the valley together, that they have nothing to fret about.  We're young, strong, willing and excited to be taking the journey together.

As we start our journey, the going is easy, we're holding hands, balancing each other out as we test the waters of the rapids.  The pebbles are hard to walk on and the water's rushing quite fast but we laugh as we hold each other up, first one then the other carefully picking our way through.  With practice it becomes easier.  Sometimes one of us falls and cuts ourselves, but the other is there to hold us while we heal, to encourage us to keep going.  It's fun to watch the other creatures in the rapids, exciting to see others on their journey.  We point out to each other, laugh with each other and share every new sight with each other.  We often stop and meet up with others on the journey, happy to share our experiences, comparing routes, smiling at each other as we remember a similar path another couple is describing that we've already conquered.   This is life, this is the magical valley, this is the fun filled exciting journey I'd yearned for.

The middle

After a while the rapids lose their pull on us, we no longer point out every sight to each other.  We want some new excitement. After much discussion we decide to start through the brambles.  This is much tougher, as the path is only ever wide enough for one of us at a time.  We each have to take turns at clearing the path, stepping aside, helping the other through to take the lead, then follow as the other clears the path, steps aside, helps us through to take the lead.  Now we have new sights to see, new experiences to share.  The laughter returns as we help each other through, licking our wounds, mending our torn clothing, finding ways of widening the path. 

We start to master this and soon we can both walk on the path together.  We tentatively let go of each other's hands, we find ways of both being able to clear a section of the path for ourselves.  We laugh at night as we compare our paths, each bragging that theirs is better than the other's, each pointing out faults in the other's path.  We make up little names for each other, and laugh as we use these names each day as we strive to compete with each other to improve our individual paths.  We seldom need to hold hands now, except when the path is really difficult.  Then we return to the method that we know works in the difficult times: clear, step aside, help the other through to take the lead, follow as they clear, step aside and help us through.   We quite like this way of clearing the path together but we've got so used to comparing each others paths that now we simply continue and compare each others section of the path, pointing out the faults and using our little nicknames as a taunt.  The laughter stops, and we are silent at night.  We no longer share the new sights with each other.

Occasionally we meet up with other couples who are still on a single path and we smile at each other as they describe the method that works and that we've already conquered.  It sounds like fun again and so for a while we abandon our individual paths and use the method that works on a single path and we laugh at night as we share our experiences and remember how we used to compete with each other on our separate paths.  We start to use our little names again and we start to see the faults again and we start to carve out our own paths again.  Soon we let go of each others hands again and now when the going gets tough we don't go back to the method that we know works, we stubbornly continue to struggle to carve out our own paths.  We still occasionally try to point out new sights to each other, but they're not as interesting as our own sights we're uncovering, and we soon stop sharing the discoveries with each other.  This is no fun, this is not the magical journey I'd longed for.

The brambles quickly lose their attraction, so we decide to climb the rocks.  Now we have to help each other again, pulling each other up, pushing each other along, finding a safe shelter at night.  We share the day's experiences and laugh as we discuss the difficulties, the shared tragedies, the mastery of a difficult section.  We encourage each other, hold each other when one of us it hurt.  We point out the new sights to each other, share the experiences with others we meet on the path.  We smile at each other when others are discussing the difficulties in the brambles and we nod wisely knowing that we've come though that section.

And so we happily pull and push our way through the rocks.  We discover that occasionally we can manage a section on our own.  We don't have to continually hold hands and help each other along.  We're still making interesting discoveries but when we turn to share them with the other, the other is a little way off making their own discoveries.  We enthusiastically share our individual discoveries with each other in our shared shelter at night, but the magic is often lost in the re-telling.  It's not as much fun talking about the discoveries after the fact as it is sharing the discoveries at the time.   But, as we now seem to be interested in different discoveries, and different sights, we're not too bothered.  We're happy with what we discovered that day.

We offer each other our hands to help pull and push but more often than not we smile and say 'No thank you, I can manage' and we do, we manage.  It's not quite as much fun, but it's quieter and leaves us more time for our individual discoveries.  We start to share our experiences at night but soon realise that in fact we're not that interested in each other's experiences only our own.

We are mastering the rocks, so we seldom need to offer assistance any more.  In fact we often find that we only meet up at night to share a shelter.  Then one night we're so far apart that we find our own shelters.  We have time to quietly contemplate the day's discoveries with no interruptions.  We plan our next day's routes with no discussion with each other.  We set off on our individual paths and we smile at each other when our paths cross the next day and we share a section of the path. 

Now we occasionally share a shelter and try to show an interest in each other's discoveries.  We sometimes meet up with other couples who are still pushing/pulling each other over the rocks and we reminisce about how we enjoyed it when we did that too.  The next day we still go off on our individual paths.

The rocks become more difficult as we get older and we look around for each other, hoping for a helping hand.  We each need help and we could give it to each other but we're too far apart.  We rarely share a shelter now and our paths seldom cross.  When they do we find we have little to say to each other, as neither of us is interested in the other's path, we're simply struggling up our own path.


The end

I glance up and see the edge of the cliff, where I trod my solitary path so long ago.  It seems so easy.  I wonder what I'm doing down here in the valley on my own.  I remember the words of everyone when we set out and I'm reminded that the journey cannot be managed alone.

I had thought that I'd found the perfect companion, that we'd travel the valley together forever.  I hadn't realised how difficult it would be.  The valley has lost its intrigue and magic and all I want is to get back to my solitary path on the cliff edge.


Finale

I now walk along the edge of the cliff, never glancing into the valley, content on my solitary path with my memories of the valley.  I smile at the youngsters itching to get into the valley.  They ask me about it but I simply smile and move along my path. 

They need to find their own way, not my way.