The Journey
The Journey
Once there was a village of people surrounded on all sides by a vast wasteland. Life was difficult for these people; there was barely enough food or water for everyone. However, the people managed to scrape by.
One day a young man in this village sought out an elder - a woman who was considered to be the wisest in the town.
"Life here is difficult," the young man said to the woman. "We have scarcely enough food or water to survive. Even the few pleasant things here feel empty to me. I came to ask you: Is there anything beyond our village? Has anyone ever tried to cross the wasteland and find a better place to live?"
"Only a few people have asked me that," said the elder.
"Some have, though?"
"Yes," she said. "Over the years there have been some people who tried to cross the wasteland. It's a difficult journey. Most have returned to the village."
"What about the rest?"
"There have been a few who crossed over. They came back to us and shared stories of their journey - and the land beyond. They said that there is a beautiful place beyond the wasteland, lush and peaceful. There is no hunger or thirst there. They say it is as rich as the wasteland is bare."
"Tell me how they did it," said the young man. "I want to go."
The elder lived at the edge of the village. She opened her door and motioned out toward the wasteland. It seemed endless.
"This isn't an ordinary desert," she said. "In fact, you'll find that the heat and dryness don't bother you at all. Instead, there is a different challenge to face."
"Go on," said the young man.
"As you step into the wasteland, it will begin to affect you. At least, that is what everyone has reported."
"Affect you in what way?"
"As you begin your journey," said the elder, "you may find that your feelings begin to change. You may feel a sense of being alone - even abandoned. You may begin to feel a sense of dread and fear. Feelings of helplessness, powerlessness, or even shame may begin to rise up."
She continued: "And it won't just be your feelings. Your thoughts may begin to turn as well. You may find yourself thinking twisted things about yourself and those whom you love. Your perceptions will likely follow; you may begin to see things that support these thoughts and feelings. Your mind will likely become consumed by this at times. That is what those who have made the journey have said."
The young man was a bit shaken by this description. But he composed himself and said, "Well, I can handle that. At least for a while. How long does it last? How long do you have to go through that?"
"Ah," said that elder, "you see, that is the trick. The journey through the wasteland can go on nearly forever. It lasts as long as you believe that it is true."
"What do you mean?"
"The wasteland persists until you realize that you are not alone. That there is nothing to dread. That you are not helpless or shameful or abandoned. But all the while, your thoughts and feelings, your visions and perceptions - everything - will be telling you otherwise. You may very well lose hope and return to the relative comfort of our village. That is why so few have crossed."
The young man shook his head at this. "Well, there must be a way. You said that some people did it."
"There have been some." She pointed at a set of books. "Throughout the generations in this village, we have recorded the words of those who made the crossing and returned. They came back to help those who wanted to make the journey."
"And what did they say?"
"They each used unique approaches. One of the earliest people to cross wrote down instructions to herself before she made the journey. She kept reading her notes, over and over, with every step. She rarely took her eyes off them. It took her a while, but she ended up crossing."
The elder continued: "Someone else built on her approach - he realized that he could take short trips into the wasteland, and write down what he had learned when he returned to the village. By doing that over and over, he compiled a detailed map of sorts. Eventually he was able to cross."
"However," she said, "the last people to cross made one of the greatest contributions."
"Who was it?"
"It was a young couple who wondered what would happen if they tried to cross together. They set off through the wasteland together. It was an arduous process - the wasteland filled them with spite toward each other as they walked. They were overcome with feelings of bitterness. Their minds were filled with aspersions and blame. But they were stubborn, those two, and they kept marching ahead.
"Days would pass as they walked. And then every so often one of them would catch a glimmer of something in the other's eyes - a tiny light in the darkness. That one would say: This bitterness we feel - it's just the wasteland. The other would nod in recognition. You're right, he'd say. It's just the wasteland. It's not real. And as they said that, the power of the land would recede a bit.
"In this way, they went forward. It took them a long time. But they persisted, looking at each other every so often, catching a glimpse of the truth, reminding each other about what was happening. They did eventually make the crossing - and ever since then, we have encouraged those who try to go together."
The young man thought about this. He nodded. "I would like to try this journey," he said. "I would like to read those notes from the travelers. I will find people to go with me."
The elder smiled. "I am glad to hear it. Even though it may be difficult, the journey through the wasteland is one that everyone must make. No one is lost who tries it; everyone either crosses or returns here before trying again. And when you cross, you will make the journey easier for everyone who follows."
Once there was a village of people surrounded on all sides by a vast wasteland. Life was difficult for these people; there was barely enough food or water for everyone. However, the people managed to scrape by.
One day a young man in this village sought out an elder - a woman who was considered to be the wisest in the town.
"Life here is difficult," the young man said to the woman. "We have scarcely enough food or water to survive. Even the few pleasant things here feel empty to me. I came to ask you: Is there anything beyond our village? Has anyone ever tried to cross the wasteland and find a better place to live?"
"Only a few people have asked me that," said the elder.
"Some have, though?"
"Yes," she said. "Over the years there have been some people who tried to cross the wasteland. It's a difficult journey. Most have returned to the village."
"What about the rest?"
"There have been a few who crossed over. They came back to us and shared stories of their journey - and the land beyond. They said that there is a beautiful place beyond the wasteland, lush and peaceful. There is no hunger or thirst there. They say it is as rich as the wasteland is bare."
"Tell me how they did it," said the young man. "I want to go."
The elder lived at the edge of the village. She opened her door and motioned out toward the wasteland. It seemed endless.
"This isn't an ordinary desert," she said. "In fact, you'll find that the heat and dryness don't bother you at all. Instead, there is a different challenge to face."
"Go on," said the young man.
"As you step into the wasteland, it will begin to affect you. At least, that is what everyone has reported."
"Affect you in what way?"
"As you begin your journey," said the elder, "you may find that your feelings begin to change. You may feel a sense of being alone - even abandoned. You may begin to feel a sense of dread and fear. Feelings of helplessness, powerlessness, or even shame may begin to rise up."
She continued: "And it won't just be your feelings. Your thoughts may begin to turn as well. You may find yourself thinking twisted things about yourself and those whom you love. Your perceptions will likely follow; you may begin to see things that support these thoughts and feelings. Your mind will likely become consumed by this at times. That is what those who have made the journey have said."
The young man was a bit shaken by this description. But he composed himself and said, "Well, I can handle that. At least for a while. How long does it last? How long do you have to go through that?"
"Ah," said that elder, "you see, that is the trick. The journey through the wasteland can go on nearly forever. It lasts as long as you believe that it is true."
"What do you mean?"
"The wasteland persists until you realize that you are not alone. That there is nothing to dread. That you are not helpless or shameful or abandoned. But all the while, your thoughts and feelings, your visions and perceptions - everything - will be telling you otherwise. You may very well lose hope and return to the relative comfort of our village. That is why so few have crossed."
The young man shook his head at this. "Well, there must be a way. You said that some people did it."
"There have been some." She pointed at a set of books. "Throughout the generations in this village, we have recorded the words of those who made the crossing and returned. They came back to help those who wanted to make the journey."
"And what did they say?"
"They each used unique approaches. One of the earliest people to cross wrote down instructions to herself before she made the journey. She kept reading her notes, over and over, with every step. She rarely took her eyes off them. It took her a while, but she ended up crossing."
The elder continued: "Someone else built on her approach - he realized that he could take short trips into the wasteland, and write down what he had learned when he returned to the village. By doing that over and over, he compiled a detailed map of sorts. Eventually he was able to cross."
"However," she said, "the last people to cross made one of the greatest contributions."
"Who was it?"
"It was a young couple who wondered what would happen if they tried to cross together. They set off through the wasteland together. It was an arduous process - the wasteland filled them with spite toward each other as they walked. They were overcome with feelings of bitterness. Their minds were filled with aspersions and blame. But they were stubborn, those two, and they kept marching ahead.
"Days would pass as they walked. And then every so often one of them would catch a glimmer of something in the other's eyes - a tiny light in the darkness. That one would say: This bitterness we feel - it's just the wasteland. The other would nod in recognition. You're right, he'd say. It's just the wasteland. It's not real. And as they said that, the power of the land would recede a bit.
"In this way, they went forward. It took them a long time. But they persisted, looking at each other every so often, catching a glimpse of the truth, reminding each other about what was happening. They did eventually make the crossing - and ever since then, we have encouraged those who try to go together."
The young man thought about this. He nodded. "I would like to try this journey," he said. "I would like to read those notes from the travelers. I will find people to go with me."
The elder smiled. "I am glad to hear it. Even though it may be difficult, the journey through the wasteland is one that everyone must make. No one is lost who tries it; everyone either crosses or returns here before trying again. And when you cross, you will make the journey easier for everyone who follows."