The Journey Trail
My birthday is coming up…
On the day when I turned 25, I sat on my bedroom floor in tears, feeling hopelessly old and unaccomplished. As I approach the end of my 52nd circle around the sun, I feel blissful being in the moment; no limits, no fear. Life is still filled with obstacles and stress, but now I can see them and what lies behind and beyond them. I know that beneath every perceived limit, there is the freedom to choose. Beneath every fear lies a place deep inside that feels eternal and safe.
To mark this celestial moment, I have come to a retreat site in the Santa Cruz Mountains, deep in the redwood forest. It’s my second time here, one of my favorite places, close to home yet a world apart. There is a private trail behind the property that I’ve been longing to walk again. After an early breakfast, just as the sun begins to rise, I set out on the Journey Trail.
I am completely alone, surrounded by majestic redwood trees, gentle sound of flowing creeks, and occasional chirps of early birds. The air is thick with silence, yet everything feels alive—the trees, the ferns, even the fallen leaves and moss-covered dead roots. Every being in the forest simply exists, unfolding from a blueprint encoded in its seed, moving through a cycle of growth, decay, and renewal. Nothing strives to be anything other than what it is. Everything contributes to the whole exactly as it is. This is what makes the forest so full of abundance.
Nature is clarifying. As I walk deeper into the woods, breathing in the crisp morning air and stillness around, my mind clears, my heart softens, and my body feels revitalized. When the mind is quiet, the soul awakens, taking delight in the purifying energy from nature, flowing through an open heart. I tell myself to remember this feeling of the heart opening, to receive only that which nourishes the mind and soul, and filter out anything that does not.
The end of the trail leads me to a labyrinth. I was here last time, but I didn’t really understand the purpose of it. This time, the moment I see it, I know.
I step inside, sensing the inward pull. The path twists and turns, sometimes drawing me closer to the center, sometimes leading me away. There are moments of doubt. Am I on the right path? How much farther still? Then suddenly, before I know it, the path opens straight to the center. I arrive. Traversing the labyrinch is like a guided meditation for the body to go deep within. I allow myself to rest in the center, feeling into the single point deep inside the belly, a point of convergence and unity. All seeking dissolves there.
The way out is just as meandering, but it does not retrace my steps. It has its own map. If going in feels like inquiry, going out feels like expansion—creation moving from the inside out. The labyrinth is a magical container for contemplation.
After completing the Journey Trail, I, too, feel complete.