The Bridge

I have no sense of direction; maps mean nothing to me (just a bunch of squiggly lines winding in and out all over the place); even written directions confuse me. I usually end up arguing with the Mapquest piece of paper doubting its accuracy; thus I end up lost. When I get lost I don’t realize it immediately; that would be too easy—instead I drive for miles and miles. It doesn’t have to be an unfamiliar route for me to lose my way—familiarity and getting lost have nothing to do with each other. How does this happen in familiar territory you ask?—simple; I don’t pay attention… isn’t that comforting to all of you fellow travelers that may meet me on the road one day?… Just steer clear of all the silver Pontiac Vibes and I’m sure you’ll be okay…

Like I said, when lost I drive for miles never realizing I’m on the wrong path—totally unaware of my surroundings. THEN something fascinating happens every time; I approach a bridge. The bridges are always different; no two alike. These bridges snap me back into reality and make me realize I’m going in the wrong direction. Unfamiliar scenery; road signs---none of the usual signals that cause most people to question their direction have an impact on me; only bridges.

Instead of turning around at the sight of the bridge, I always keep traveling towards it and cross. Something about its presence draws me in its direction. After crossing, I turn around and backtrack… I am a professional at backtracking—go figure…

When this “phenomenon” first happened I became nervous and wondered if I would find my way; you know that “lost forever” kind of feeling—okay I’m overly dramatic, but it freaked me out. Today I cross the bridges with confidence; laughing at myself for yet another traveling blunder.

Have you ever noticed the magnificence of a bridge? The strength it must have to endure...vehicles of all sizes crossing it; the way it connects one side to another with beauty and debris flowing underneath… I am convinced that a bridge holds the answers to all of my questions in life.

You see, I’m on one side of the bridge doubting my strength; am I strong enough to carry the load that has been placed upon my shoulders (whether this load is of my own doing or someone else’s is beside the point)? This doubt separates the ME that people perceive me to be and the ME that is thriving in my soul—two different people. One that I allowed to be molded by society; the other that is alive, vibrant, and yearning to be set free.

Will I allow myself to be drawn to this bridge of my life? Will I have the courage to cross over to the other side appreciating the beauty that life has bestowed upon me and letting go of the debris that continues to weigh me down? Will I be able to leave this illusion of myself far behind and embrace the person I hunger to be—imperfections and all?

Crossing over into unfamiliar territory with a sense of direction instead of disorientation; a sense of humor; and a feeling of accomplishment. Yes, I love bridges; I no longer fear them, but embrace their presence. As I cross the unfamiliar bridges in my travels I imagine crossing my own bridge and what a glorious day that will be…

LIKE A BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATERS--simon and garfunkel