finding the path
At the end of the road, where it bends away from the usual things, there is a shrine. As you approach, its presence enters your attention peacefully. The grounds surrounding it create the feeling of a corner. It is always a right turn.
There is a step where the stone path begins. This threshold is further marked by a short pillar on either side, each less than a meter high. Plain, squared pillars lacking ornamentation. Faded markings and rough edges show that this place knows time, or that time is a part of it. The pillars’ existence marks an initial boundary, a clue to aid the transition.
The path is formed of stone masonry, laid out in a regular pattern with the rectangular stones aligned lengthwise in the direction of movement. Another subtle clue that this is the way. They are an un-intimidating light gray of the most typical kind.
As you begin to walk, the safety of the flat stones allows your gaze to rise. The true entrance to the grounds is ahead, perhaps fifteen meters. It holds a gentle and authentic power, bestowed both by nature and the awe of those who built the gate. The gate appears to be always open—in fact, it may be better described as a frame. A frame creating the doorway to a place of purpose.
The frame, too, is made of stone. A pillar on each side of the path, three meters between them, stands tall as an arm outstretched toward the sky. They extend perhaps in praise, or gratitude, or surrender—or all three. Joinery, itself uniform in material with the rest, complements the overall form of the frame. It ties each pillar to the crosspiece, which is divided into two parallel sections. The corners are tapered, while the juncture of pillar and crosspiece forms slightly more than a right angle. Each parallel of the crosspiece is carved simply, but with somewhat different lines. The overall effect is respectfully decorative but not ornate.
To the left of the frame stands a tree. It is not alone, there are trees to the right as well. This this tree draws attention though. Its branches extend lovingly toward the frame itself. Its trunk is thick, its branches many and full of fresh green leaves in the shape of rounded diamonds. At its base are scattered the remains of short-lived blossoms. Pink and white petals, each the size of a fingernail. The image evokes a hint of sweetness in the air, which could be real, or imagined.
As you stop beneath the frame, looking up, there is a plaque that hangs overhead. The plaque itself is apart from the frame, suspended by bent metal rods that protrude from the lower parallel of the crosspiece. Angled downward so as to be read, its etchings are long worn and their message dissolved into the surroundings. Can you read it?
Stopping to look ahead, you see the path is long. It continues flat and straight for some distance hard to ascertain. Trees of different types, all strong and full of life, stand along each side. Their branches shroud the path. In the sun, they shade and cool the way. Under the moon, they may cast eerie shadows difficult to interpret. A breeze passes through the frame from behind, and rustles the leaves along the path.
At the end, looking far ahead, there is a stairway of the same stone and same breadth as the path from which it forms. Its steps rise steeply. Above the steps can be seen a patch of clear blue sky above the trees.
Will you enter?
