There Is a Meadow

© 2009 by Daniel Carter. All rights reserved. Copying or reproducing any portion of this article without permission is illegal and will be prosecuted.

A friend of mine and I and his little Wire Hair Jack Russell Terrier went for a hike up a mountain canyon on a warm Saturday afternoon in June. The climb was steady and fairly difficult, but not overwhelming. It was strenuous enough for a great workout. We figured we'd be gone a couple of hours. 

The journey of following a stream up to a waterfall was breath taking! The wild flowers were really remarkable along the way, several of which I had never seen before. We rested at the waterfall, and talked to a young couple who told us of a beautiful meadow at the top. 

"How far?" we asked. 

"Oh, probably a couple of miles, but it's worth it!" they assured. 

We were about 45 minutes into our hike. And so we set off happily uphill again.

After another half hour or so, we came to a place that opened up with tall grasses and marshy flowers and wildlife. It was beautiful. 

"Well, here it is", I said. 

"No it isn't," said my friend, "this is a clearing." 

"No it isn't, I'll bet this is the meadow," I panted out of breath and getting more tired by the minute.

Only pausing, my friend moved on. And so I dutifully went along with the promise that it was not far ahead. We came to a second clearing, slightly smaller. 

"This isn't it," he said. 

"Well, I'm starting to wear out," I whined. 

But still we went on. A third clearing appeared before us. All very different, all very beautiful. And I hated to admit he was right, this wasn't the meadow. We kept going and finally realized we were nearing a huge opening near the mountain top. The trail opened up into a kind of bowl shaped place. 

"Ahhhh," I said. "FINALLY! the meadow!!"

"NOT!!!" said my friend, "because the couple we talked to said we needed to find 'The Great Western Trail' sign, and go left. There's the sign, so it's still up ahead." 

So we kept going. By now, I was ticked, and tired, and wanted to turn around. I didn't care about the #$%@ meadow anymore. 

After about another mile later, there was the meadow.

It had knee high grass, sat on a plateau about 1,000 feet below the mountain peaks. The snowcapped peaks behind us stretched majestically upward. We were perhaps 5,000 feet above the valley floor. We'd been walking uphill for more than three hours. 

As we looked around, there was a huge cluster of trees, and suddenly darting out of them were deer. Mothers with young. It was incredible. We had never seen the tops of these mountains so close to be able to see wildlife in such majestic beauty. Despite my fatigue, I wanted to explore, so we walked for probably another half mile. We came to a place that overlooked the valley, and it was by far, the most breathtaking moment of all. We could see for maybe as far as 30 miles in three directions from the plateau. The sky was endless, it seemed. A few clouds in the west were beginning to reflect colors of a sun low in the sky. We saw communities in the distance, a lake, and felt we had risen above the noise and clamor of the world. With deer scattering around us, with insect and wildlife, flowers, grasses and trees, we were surrounded by some of creations most elegant and breathtaking vistas.

I thought Julie Andrews would come out suddenly singing, "the hills are alive with the sound of music." Thankfully, she didn't. I probably would have passed out or something.

We had more than one and a half hours of downhill hiking ahead of us. But now it was a pleasure to make the trek back. We were still tired, but rejuvenated by the incredible experience. I thanked my friend for being tenacious and persistent and promised that I wouldn't whine about such an adventure again. He laughed.

As we passed each of the clearings going back, I happily exclaimed to him, "NOT a meadow Number Three, NOT a meadow Number Two," and so forth. We both had a good laugh. 

I think of that experience often. In each of our lives we have likely had pretty intense setbacks at times. There are any number of devastating events that can overpower any one of us. We get tired and worn out. We think that our unpleasant circumstances aren't ever going to end. We get fatalistic, negative, and start believing the angry little lies our mind starts telling us. We give in to victim mentality and believe we have no responsibility in what has happened to us, so therefore, we won't take responsibility for making our circumstances better. It's someone else's job to fix this, not ours. We didn't cause this. Some one owes us. We continue to get more bitter, and the wounds deepen, and we dig in our heels and get set in our ways. There is no forgiveness for what happened. It wasn't our fault, so why should we forgive? 

But thankfully, sometimes there is someone who is willing to push us (and all our buttons). They invariably make us mad, tired and out of sorts, and for some reason, we go along with it. They somehow instinctively know that if we'll just keep going, it will get better. We don't believe it. But they keep pushing and so we keep moving. Somehow.

It took about 50 years for me to realize that almost every relationship I ever had in my life was dangerously toxic which included abuse. And it took about the same number of decades to realize what an incredible victim I'd been and how I attracted most of the catastrophes I experienced—that I actually taught people to treat me very badly. I taught them! I realized, finally, that I had some responsibility for so many of the awful things that happened. Even if I was completely ignorant of it at the time, I needed to accept responsibility for my actions and being a victim. I needed to learn my lessons, not repeat them any more, move on, let go, forgive, and figure out how to be happy.

The path up the side of this rough mountain was difficult. I got tired a lot. I lost hope often. But I became curious about where the path might lead. What would it bring? I found really difficult, rough spots. I thought about going back. I also found a beautiful waterfall, streams, flowers I had never seen before, and clearings filled with all kinds of magnificent life. And finally, I found a meadow. It was tough. I talked myself into believing it wasn't really there even though in my heart I knew it was. I'm so glad my negative thinking was a deception. I'm so glad that when I was angry and down, I was very wrong. And now that I have been to the meadow, I know how to get to it again. And so I go there and I think of it often.

I've been to it. You have to travel light to get to it. You have to be willing to not bring your baggage. Things like anger, regret, failure, hatred and holding a grudge. This stuff is way too heavy to carry up the side of a steep mountain. Some people try, but they either turn back, or leave it along the trail and keep going. Laying your baggage aside helps you understand that what you must give up is not a loss. Losing all that baggage opens you to the wonderful things that are coming.

Yes, there is a meadow, but just thinking positively won't get you there. Being in denial about the reality of your life so that you can make the appearance of always being happy won't get you there. But being curious about discovering something better will put you on the path.