staring at stars.

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A funny thing happened to me today. I was hiking this spectacular mountain, as I often am in Utah when I'm free, and I was staring up at the beautiful, teasing summit. step. step. step. smush. I looked down, and realized I had stepped in a huge pile of horse shit.


Always a bummer.


Then I kept hiking. step. step. step. step... Looked up at that peak again, and tripped on a big boulder, fell and re-smashed my tibia (I did the same thing yesterday..)!


Bummer! Damnit!


Then I kept hiking but resolved myself to stare at the ground, to pay attention to what I was doing. I started to think about something a dinner guest of my parents told me a long time ago... For some reason, this guest and I just hit it off and chatted it up. I'm thinking I must have been around 12 years old or so at the time, so it was an odd connection to say the least. Especially since I was the kind of kid that really just wanted my mom to approve the quantity of dinner I ate so I could go roller skating...


He was interesting, though. He had a way of turning everything we said into something really meaningful. I think he was a psychotherapist. And a writer.


I remember him saying something to me before he left our house... He said, "Be careful. You're one of those types that will trip on a rock while staring at the stars."


When I thought of it today, I laughed at the irony of thinking about that memory 15 years later because I stepped in some horse shit.


But as I contemplated it more, I realized that I have fallen victim to the message in that warning a lot in my life. It's almost like I have learned to stare at the ground right in front of me without a sense of the greater beauty as a conditioned behavior, because every time I look up at the stars, something on the ground catches me off-guard.


The problem with this conditioned behavior is that I really want to look at the stars or the peak or the greater beauty of where my life is hopefully leading. But I'm afraid to because I can never seem to stop walking long enough to do it. And if I don't stop walking, I only have time to catch a quick glimpse of it before I trip and bust my tibia.


I've realized that writing, for me, has become my opportunity to Stop. Pause. Reflect. Look. Appreciate.


I am starting to heal. Only just two days out from the worst stretch of staring at the ground thinking step. step. step. step. trudge. trudge. trudge. that I have ever experienced.


I realized today, maybe for the first time ever, that it is a really bad idea for me to stare at the ground all the time for any reason. It kills me.


I think I'd rather accidentally step in horse shit because I was looking at something really beautiful.


Or even better..


Stop. Look. Heal.


Then keep on walkin'..


After all, I don't hike for the trail. I hike for the summit.



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