”May the road rise up to meet you….” starts the blessing of my people.

But….. I am not so sure, as well intentioned as this sentiment is, that it is indeed a blessing and not in fact a curse.

A road that always rises, that meets you when you stumble, that catches you when you fall, that imbues you with bravado not earned; does no favors, teaches no lessons, builds no character.

It is in the scabbed knees and scars that we learn.

It is in the picking up of ones self, the reassembling of the pieces, that one sees a glimpse of the bigger picture; senses ones place in the puzzle of life.

It is in the moments we stumble, when we veer off course, when no one and no road rises to catch us; when we are truly alone, that we learn who we are and what we believe in.

It is in the void between what we see and what we sense is there, that we learn to trust; not the road, but ourselves.

It is in the moments that we dust ourselves off; the moment pavement gives way to gravel; gives way to nothing; when we straddle the medium, dare not disturb the middle ground; that we find which side we favor and who we truly are..

It is in this moment.

In this pressing on.

In this abandonment of the car.

In this carrying on by foot.

It is in this going on beyond where others have gone.

It is in this forging of our own path, this blazing of our own trail; in the potholes and mud, the blind curves and drop offs; the sticky parts where we can easily become tapirs mired for eternity in tourist trap tar pits.

It is in the moments we should turn back, but instead press on.

It is in these moments that we become…..not the sum of our parts, but the whole of who we truly are.

It is in these moments where we dare the road to rise up and meet us and the road always falls short….