Humans have asked these existential questions for centuries: “Where did we come from? Why are we here? And where are we going?” The question of “Where are we going?” has risen to the top of our collective conscious as we face multiple planetary crises.
Does the migrating butterfly or bird know exactly where it is going? Does the salmon swimming upstream know it’s destination? The wolf setting out from his pack and traveling for miles in search of a mate? Do they know where they are headed, or do they feel an inexplainable tug toward a destination unknown, with only a vague impression? Perhaps their minds do not know but their bodies do.
Now, “What do I do?” and “What do we do?” have become the prescient questions among us. The answer lies in these words from poet Antonio Machado: “We make the path by walking.” All that is required of us is to do is put one foot in front of the other. To do the next right thing.
You can’t see each step until you get to it, and often you can see no further than that, as if walking in a dense fog. Sometimes the “way” forward feels impossible, impassable, like the turbulent sea crashing against rocks. Wait and observe—if you stay long enough, the tide will recede to reveal a smooth sandy beach to walk, with sea stars in tide pools like jewels to accompany you on the way. Trust that the path, for each of us, and for all of us, will emerge.
Imagine yourself in a field at sundown, the low golden light bathing you in warmth, reflecting the fire in your eye. The wind is made visible by the undulating grasses, which en masse look like the coarse hair on the back of a giant tawny animal. Imagining that, you feel infinitely small, yet held.
The path will hold us— it will carry us along like a thread through fabric, but it may not appear until we’re walking it. Then, what’s yours to do will become clear, what is all of ours to do will emerge.
The question to ask now is, “Where do we want to go?” It is up to each of us to decide.
