The Place Where We Are

 

There was once a highway passing by a bustling town. One day an underground coal fire spread far and wide, threatening all who lived in the land. So the town became abandoned. And the long stretch of highway eventually became hidden in the forest, completely cut off from civilization. I journeyed to this abandoned highway, where thousands of locals would leave their mark with brightly colored spray paint markings. Then, sadly, this "lost road" went viral on social media. So many tourists came here that it became a huge liability for the owners of the property, and it was plowed over with heaps and mounds of dirt. Now it is no more.

 

Deep in PA State Game Lands, there are access roads open only during the winter hunting seasons. They meander through some of the most hauntingly beautiful forest scenes. These places aren't just nice to look at. They are also the kind of places where you really FEEL something. As if there are supernatural forces lurking within the woods. Your mind stops, and you are simply in awe. It is quite surreal. One summer, I was camping with extended family on a particular mountain. We noticed that one of these access roads was open. We weren't sure why, but we had to drive down it and explore. A few miles in, we came around a bend at a small creek bridge. The stars were bright over the massive pines, and I marveled at the silhouette horizon. I took a photo of what I saw. And to this day, I feel that same strange feeling when I look at the photo. It's the kind of feeling that words just will not do justice. Perhaps it's a feeling that pre-dates language itself. 

 

Standing next to an ocean of any sort always makes me feel so tiny in the grand scheme of things, but not in a bad way. Rather, it reminds me how truly large and magnificent our world is. We are but specs of sand, pebbles in the tide. And we live in a universe more grand than we can fathom. 

There are super tiny organisms in the ocean called polyps. At first glance, they seem pretty insignificant. Individually, they don't have much power or influence on their immediate surroundings. And yet, they work hard. They lay themselves onto the substrate, time after time, with their dying skeletons paving the way for future generations to walk upon. When enough time passes, these generations upon generations slowly form giant coral reefs. These strong reefs become protectors of a plethora of sea creatures. The Great Barrier Reef can even be seen from space. Do these tiny polyps know that what they are doing will someday contribute to a world of life for millions of other animals? I don't think so. But the fact is, they simply keep doing their job day after day. They are doing the right thing just by working. If they only knew how much they were truly contributing to our world, I think maybe they would be astounded.

 

My grandfather died when I was a year old. He once held me, and had memories of me, but I obviously have no memories of him. On his wedding day, he stood with his sister by a large house in Pennsylvania. They were photographed here for that special day. Sometimes I wish I had a time machine to say hello to my ancestors and thank them for passing down their genes so that I get to be here. I wonder what it would be like to talk to them, to share a drink or a meal with them. 

 

 

Years ago, I randomly met Mr. T in a bank in California. I had his lunch box and toys when I was growing up, and I had loved the A-Team. So I told him I was a big fan. He grabbed my hand and shook it. He furrowed his brow, smiled, and leaned in towards me. Then he said something firmly and quietly. "I won't let you down."

Words of great wisdom from a man that I admired as a kid. 

We don't know exactly where our paths will lead us. And as long as we have some memories, we can know where we've been. And once in awhile, we are lucky enough to remember how amazing it is that we are alive right now. And perhaps we can feel a feeling that pre-dates language itself. Perhaps in this place.

The place where we are.

Take care.

-T