A recluse living in the Rocky Mountains with his dog, Shawnee, White Feather tells stories that lead us back to the primal joy of our existence. His philosophical and metaphysical essays push the envelope of our perspectives while grounding us to the feelings that connect us with our source. With insight and feeling, White Feather shares his journey through the shift in consciousness the world is going through, compelling us to look at our own journey. To discuss White Feather's writings and other philosophical and metaphysical subjects with others, visit White Feather Forum.
Thursday, September 16, 2004
Journey to Tele
by White Feather
When the old man stepped up to cross the bridge, he paused and turned to look at his family waving good-bye to him. He knew that he would never see them again, although they did not know that. Looking at their faces, the old man was not sure if his family members were sad to see him go, or straining to wait out the next few minutes for him to be out of sight so they could go on with their lives. Waving, but not smiling, the old man turned back around and proceeded across the narrow walking bridge that was suspended above the deep canyon below.
The old man was embarking on the final trip of his life; a trip that would take him far from the land where he had lived most of that life. He went eagerly, though, without a shred of regret or remorse. As long as he could remember, the old man had always wanted to see the sacred city of Tele, and now he was finally going. The only uncertainty was whether his tired old body would survive the grueling 800 mile trip.
Halfway across the foot bridge, the old man stopped and turned around for one last look at his family and the land that had been his home. The look was quick, though, as others were crossing the bridge behind him and he did not want to hold up traffic. After seeing his waving family briefly, he then looked down at the deep canyon below him. Far below was a small ribbon of a river. The old man could see birds flying above the river. It was odd to be so far above the birds. Holding on to the side ropes to steady a growing uneasiness, he regained his balance and looked ahead, slowly resuming his walk across the bridge.
When he reached the other side, the old man did not look back. As he stepped onto the path that would take him out of the mountains, his focus remained on the journey ahead.
Copyright © 2002-2004, by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. Books By White Feather
When the old man stepped up to cross the bridge, he paused and turned to look at his family waving good-bye to him. He knew that he would never see them again, although they did not know that. Looking at their faces, the old man was not sure if his family members were sad to see him go, or straining to wait out the next few minutes for him to be out of sight so they could go on with their lives. Waving, but not smiling, the old man turned back around and proceeded across the narrow walking bridge that was suspended above the deep canyon below.
The old man was embarking on the final trip of his life; a trip that would take him far from the land where he had lived most of that life. He went eagerly, though, without a shred of regret or remorse. As long as he could remember, the old man had always wanted to see the sacred city of Tele, and now he was finally going. The only uncertainty was whether his tired old body would survive the grueling 800 mile trip.
Halfway across the foot bridge, the old man stopped and turned around for one last look at his family and the land that had been his home. The look was quick, though, as others were crossing the bridge behind him and he did not want to hold up traffic. After seeing his waving family briefly, he then looked down at the deep canyon below him. Far below was a small ribbon of a river. The old man could see birds flying above the river. It was odd to be so far above the birds. Holding on to the side ropes to steady a growing uneasiness, he regained his balance and looked ahead, slowly resuming his walk across the bridge.
When he reached the other side, the old man did not look back. As he stepped onto the path that would take him out of the mountains, his focus remained on the journey ahead.
Copyright © 2002-2004, by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. Books By White Feather
