What a long strange trip it's been

We live in this faith in the miracle of life not by planning or following a ready-made map; we live in faith only by living with absolute spontaneity to the needs and miracles of the moment, for they are there, ever waiting to deliver us from ourselves, 'making clear our paths', and not, as it were, lurking in darkness and ready to destroy us.

Lispector addresses this wandering faith- this faith in wandering- saying "I sent my angel on ahead to prepare the path before me and to tell the stones that I was coming so they be softened for my lack of comprehension."(The Passion, p132)

The beginning of faith is the ending of fear; to go forward is to never look back.

As Phil Cousineau relates:

“Centuries of travel lore suggest that when we no longer no where to turn, our real journey has just begun. At that crossroads moment, a voice calls to our pilgrim soul. The time has come to set out for the sacred ground… that will stir our heart and restore our sense of wonder. It is down the path to the deeply real where time stops and we are seized by the mysteries. This is a journey we cannot not take.” (Art of Pilgrimage, p9)

            For “The beginning of the adventure of finding yourself is to lose your way”, suggested Joseph Campbell.

            The poet A. R. Ammons entreats, "stranger, hoist your burdens, get on down the road."(Gravely Road).

            "For, in this valley the wayfarer is thrown into utter confusion. ...He witnesses a wondrous world and a new creation at every instant, and adds wonderment to wonderment; and he is astonished at the works of the Lord of Oneness...", remarks H.M. Balyuzi, in his appropriately titled chapter- 'The Valley of Wonderment' (Baha'u'llah, p30).

Down the road there is no destination, no certainty, and maybe even no home. Perhaps this wandering life (both outward and inward) is what Christ meant when he said "The birds have their nests, and the foxes have their dens, but the Son of Man has no place to rest his head." There is no place for the mind to settle and think that it has arrived. It must forever be innocent, forever be free, without settling, without a home, keeping forever fluid and moving, without a hint of worry or sorrow. This is life. Nothing left to do but live it; nothing to seek, no goal to attain, no reason to expect that someday someone will come along and point us in the right direction. There is no right direction.

"Which way will we go and why or where or what?", rhetorically asks Miller (Tropic of Cancer, p18)

            There is no direction. There is only limitlessness unfolding at every moment, in which no one can lead, and no one can follow. So be it.

“What a long, strange trip it’s been.” (Gerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead).

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These excerpts on following the heart and aimless wandering are taken from unpublished chapters of THE WAY OF WONDER, by Jack Haas