My Journey Now

Prelude

My friend, who has never journeyed into the Valley before, has requested that I be Companion and Guide, on this their first Journey.  I was not keen initially, because I had hoped to journey again with an experienced traveller. 

After meditating and asking for guidance I have decided to do it.   It will be a very different experience for me too, as it will be the first time that I journey with a complete beginner.   Except of course on my very first Journey, when we were both beginners.  How exciting that was.

What does the Journey hold for us?  Whatever it is, it will be a learning experience, which we shall both savour.  I can only hope that I am a good guide, that I remain kind, gentle, loving and helpful and that I receive all of the above in return from my Companion.

The time is now.

The beginning

We step into the rapids, anticipating the rush of the current, dragging at our feet.  We wobble as we cling to each other's hands trying to find our balance.   I point out to my Companion, the different speeds of the waters, the eddies and the ripples as the rapids rush over our ankles.  We pause enthralled at the different colours of the stones beneath us.  Look at the pathways the waters have created in their rush to return to the sea.   The pebbles have been washed smooth by years of wear and tear, and as we look very closely we can see the easier path, the smoother rocks, and the less vicious currents.  

We soon work out our routine, first one then the other scouting for the next foothold.  Holding each other, balancing each other, thoroughly enjoying the experience, feeling the different temperatures depending on the depth of the water.

It's slow work because we are so enthralled by every step.  This is wonderful, seeing the Journey through a beginner's eyes.  Everything is new and wondrous.  I'm on the constant lookout for something to point out and so is my Companion.  We laugh with joy at the little fish, the plants, the crabs and the sheer beauty of the world beneath us.  We tread carefully so as not to disturb the habitat of the creatures who are sharing this Journey with us.

Other couples have been rushing past us, calling out for us to hurry up.  My companion looks at me questioningly, but luckily we're neither of us in a hurry.  We're happy to savour each moment of every footstep.  So we just wave them on their way and call out to them that we'll see them again.

When we make camp at night we re-cap our day, sharing each little detail, laughing at the difficulties and congratulating ourselves on overcoming them.  We test the tastes of the various foods the rapids has to offer us, discover what we like and what we don't like.  We make sure that we only pluck a little at a time so as not to create any waste. 

It gets cold at night perched on our rock in the middle of the rapids, so we cuddle up together to generate some warmth.  We talk softly and as the warmth and comfort penetrates, we drift off to sleep soundly with smiles on our lips.

The middle

We came to the end of the rapids today.  It just seemed to be upon us before we were aware of the change.  We have a choice to make now.  

There is a large group here, all those who rushed past us in the rapids.  They've set up a camp here while they rest and try to decide where to go to from here.  We've camped a little way off and are reluctant to join in their rowdy arguments about the best way forward, discussing rumours of, and predicting dangers ahead.

The longer we spend here, the more my Companion is becoming enticed by the rowdy, argumentative group.  It is time to move on.  I have now to guide, in as gentle a manner as possible.  The choices are the waterfall or the brambles.  I have travelled to both so I am happy to try either.  I am trying to get my Companion to choose without my telling too much about what to expect.

We set off for a walk this morning, and by nightfall were so far from our camp that we decided to set up camp here.  The peace and quiet, away from the group, has restored in us our ability to think clearly.  We've realised that either path will get us home and that each holds it's own lessons, so the choice is not that difficult.

We're simply continuing on the path we're on and we'll see where it leads.  We notice the tiny little flowers growing on the edge of the river, and are enchanted by the footprints of the birds in the sand.  We sit on the bank and keep very still and slowly, slowly the creatures living on the edges of the river, start to trust us and emerge from their hidey-holes.   We're amazed at just how many and varied are the creatures here.  They're mostly shy so they hide when we tramp through their habitat, but by being still and respecting the quiet we're experiencing an amazingly spectacular show!

Gently the path has led us up and away from the river and we're at the edge of the brambles.  I know this is going to be difficult, but I keep my council, and point out instead the different grasses, and bushes.   We now have a new pattern of movement to learn.  We're so attuned to each other's strengths and weaknesses, that we quickly find our rhythm.

With each step we carefully avoid the nests of the creatures that have set up home here.  We learn about the worms, the mice and the ants, especially about the ants!   For such tiny creatures they have so far proven to be the most vicious, and we're now very careful to avoid their homes.  We've discovered the sweetness of some of the roots and grasses, and the occasional little creature.  We make sure to bless each of the creatures or plants that is sacrificing its life for us.  

We rejoice in the beauty we see around us, and are grateful for our rest at the end of each day.  Even though the going is tough, we find so much to fill each moment that the days end before we're aware of the pain.

The path is getting easier and thinner and we're able to walk alongside each other.  Even though in places we don't actually need to hold onto each other, we continue to do so for the comfort we each give and receive from each other.  We're learned to thrive in the silence and can almost read each other's thoughts.  We have perfected the two handed point, the gesticulations with the eyes, the eyebrows and the lips.  The creatures no longer avoid us as we tread quietly and sure-footedly through the undergrowth.  We've learned from the birds where to find the sweetest foods and water.

It is with great satisfaction at a journey well accomplished that we emerge from the brambles.  We rest a while and reminisce about the hardships, the creatures, the birds, the plants and we give thanks to them all for the help they gave us.

We meander down a well-trodden path, relinquishing our hold on each other.  We smile across the gap and each taste the idea of being alone.  Before long we're holding hands again, laughing at the very idea that we might do this alone.  We savour the warmth and comfort and strength of the other's warm hand in ours, and a contented smile settles on our lips.

The path leads us to a big flat rock overlooking the waterfall.  It is magnificent.  We rest on the edge looking down into the waters.  They look quite deep, cold and peaceful.  The rocky slope stretches up behind us.  We're scratched and sore, hot and dusty and the rocky slope holds no attraction for us.  With a shout of laughter, we clutch onto each other and jump into the cold waters.

The breath is knocked out of me as I hit the icy water.  The fall has loosened my grip on my companion's hand, and I'm floundering alone, struggling to get to the surface.  I feel a tug and it's my companion pulling at me, gently guiding me and pulling me up to the light, smiling encouragement.  We both emerge and I'm spluttering and coughing, sucking in huge lungs full of the sweet air.  My wild struggling finally settles down as my breathing slows and I hug and shower my companion with my grateful thanks.

We drift along on the water, floating in the stillness, listening to the rumble of the waterfall behind us.  The slight current carries us along and while we're gazing at the larger birds gliding in the sky above us we're deposited onto the bank of the river.  The fish are larger here, and we gratefully accept their sacrifice as we feed ourselves.  Oh the joyful tastes!

We rest a while, relishing the clean waters, the soft beaches, the warm comfort of each other, the plentiful food and the peace.  We keep close even though the conditions do not necessitate this closeness.  When we're apart, we're searching each other out with our eyes, ears and hearts.  

The end

Every night as we settle down with the dunes at our backs, we look at the rocky slope across the river from us.  Even though it looks quite treacherous, we can feel the pull.  We build up our strength each day in preparation for the next part of the journey.

We take our leave of the beautiful riverbank and waterfall and give thanks to the birds, sweet grasses, roots and fish that have sustained us.  We make sure to clear our camp and leave only our footprints and we make our last journey through the quiet river to the other side.

The slope is relatively gentle as we get into a new hiking rhythm.  Now we definitely need to be holding onto each other.  We smile encouragement at each other as we test these new skills we're developing.  

We notice the roughness of the path, the scarcity of plants and creatures.  We learn to watch the different bird life and tiny creatures.  They lead us to different sources of sustenance and we're grateful to them.  

Each night we rest up and share the day's accomplishments as we tend to each other's scratches and bruises and sore muscles.  The sky seems to be so big, and the stars are so close.   We drift off to sleep content in each other's arms.  Each morning we rub our stiff muscles and give thanks to the sun for sharing its light and warmth with us.

The slopes are difficult and occasionally we lose our tight grip on each other.  Those moments are the worst as we feel we're lost and alone.  We quickly reach for each other and laugh at our fears. 

The terrain is much more difficult the higher we get and the plants are even scarcer.  We're having to raid the bird's nests for eggs now.  This is quite a dangerous task as the parents are exceptionally vigilant, and even though we only eat what we require to survive, we have to be careful to avoid the sharp claws.   This requires exceptional teamwork on our part.  We are grateful to the unborn birds for their sacrifice.

We climb the last rocky outcrop and our journey is complete.  We hug each other in love and gratitude and gazing down into the valley we thank it for keeping us safe.

Finale

I sit on the cliff top in contemplation and reflect on this last journey and am thrilled by the sheer joy we experienced on every step of the way.  I absolutely love my companion and know that we will journey together again in the future.

For now I simply give thanks for a wonderful journey.