If you could see

the journey whole

you might never

undertake it;

might never dare

the first step

that propels you

from the place

you have known

toward the place

you know not.

 

Call it

one of the mercies

of the road:

that we see it

only by stages

as it opens

before us,

as it comes into

our keeping

step by

single step.

 

There is nothing

for it

but to go

and by our going

take the vows

the pilgrim takes:

 

to be faithful to

the next step;

to rely on more

than the map;

to heed the signposts

of intuition and dream;

to follow the star

that only you

will recognize;

 

to keep an open eye

for the wonders that

attend the path;

to press on

beyond distractions

beyond fatigue

beyond what would

tempt you

from the way.

 

There are vows

that only you

will know;

the secret promises

for your particular path

and the new ones

you will need to make

when the road

is revealed

by turns

you could not

have foreseen.

 

Keep them, break them,

make them again:

each promise becomes

part of the path;

each choice creates

the road

that will take you

to the place

where at last

you will kneel

 

to offer the gift

most needed—

the gift that only you

can give—

before turning to go

home by

another way.

 

Jan L. Richardson, The Painted Prayerbook.

 

That was sent to me recently. A treasured gift. I hope you like it too.

There is nothing for it but to go…

Oh yes.

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