Trail
I stumbled down the canyon wash as though I were a drunk on Vine Street. Every twisted root was a rattlesnake and every charred log a sleeping black bear. I could hardly imagine how water might find its way on this arid path.
We (my thoughts and I) went on that way for about an hour and a half. At last I came to the narrow pass where the Devil supposedly resides. I proceeded cautiously down the stone corridor imagining an ambush by U.S. Cavalry or some ragged frontiersmen forgotten in time. About halfway through I peered up from the grassy floor, my eyes tracking the towering rocks to the thin blue band of sky. At this moment I realized I was standing in the birth canal of the West Texas Mountains.
The realization was heavy, so I stopped there for a moment. I glanced down at my watch. I didn't know it then, but my faithful timepiece was nearing the end of its usefulness. Twelve noon, the time I promised myself I'd find a suitable spot to kick back, enjoy some water, and perhaps a snack. But the other side of this pass was beckoning me.
After thirty or so more yards I was on the far side of the canyon and alone in the shade. Right in front of me stood a small pole, on top of which a plaque was mounted. "End of Trail," it read. I chuckled and looked around. It seemed to me that I might decide for myself if this was the end. For as far as the eye could see the rocks continued in much the same fashion as they had for the last several miles. The only item missing was those neatly stacked rocks left at regular intervals by a ranger or Good Samaritan hiker to assure those without a keen sense of direction that they were not yet lost.
I found a nice comfortable rock to settle upon. It was in the shade, but I had no choice in the matter. It was the logical place, about ten feet from the sign indicating I had come to the end of the trail. So I sat quietly enjoying some water and peanut M&Ms.
I don't exactly recall my idle thoughts on that rock, but I do remember my mind being abuzz with romantic imaginings of days long gone when Texas was no more than a whisper in the western wind. I reminded myself, "You're here looking for Spring. You may have to look a little deeper, that's all."
"Would you mind keepin' it down over there?" the sign asked.
The sign spoke!
I took a deep breath, stood up, and peered over and around the rocks. A sweat stain was left where I was sitting.
"Keep what down?" I laughed out loud.
"The noise, the noise coming from your head. I haven't heard this much gibberish from one person since that Fred Savage kid hiked up here."
The sign just stood there.
"Don't just look at me. Say something!" he cried. (I say he because he sounded just like a guy from New Jersey named Marty.)
Believe it or not words come easy when you're talking to a sign. "What's your name?" I asked.
"Red Star. Red Star Cleveland," replied the sign. "Don't tell me yours. I bet you're William the Conqueror."
"You've got me pegged all wrong Red."
"Red Star!"
"I'm sorry, Red Star. Weren't you listening to what I was thinking?"
"Listening?! It sounded like a third grade music class. What the hell have you got going on in there?"
"Lots of stuff, but mostly romantic, poetic, listless imaginings."
"I thought I might've heard an angel singing," he snapped.
"Listen Red," I said.
"Red Star!"
"Pardon, I meant Red Star. I've never really talked to a sign before. What gives?"
"Yeah? Well I don't talk to many people either. Most can't even hear me. You just sorta looked lonely and that gray matter between your ears was making so much goddamned racket I just couldn't sleep."
"My apologies, Red Star. I came here to find peace of mind in the blossoming Spring. It's kinda strange how I run into you here at the end of the trail."
"Glad to oblige. You know there are worse places to be if you're a sign."
"Tell me about it," I said.
"I knew a couple of other signs before they put me up here, but they were mostly bathroom signs. Ya know, like 'Please Flush,' 'Put Trash In Its Place,' and my favorite: 'Sanitized For Your Safety.' Oh boy, she was a peach!"
An awkward silence followed this last exchange.
"So what exactly brings you here?" Red Star asked.
"Happiness."
"Happiness?"
"That's right, I'm looking for happiness."
"Have you found it?" the sign asked sincerely.
"In small bits and pieces. But I feel even if I'm not happy more often, I should at least enjoy my days a little more."
"You don't enjoy your life?" the sign coaxed.
"No. It is hard for me to say that, but it's true. I have things I look forward to - a day here or there; you know, traveling, or a visit with a friend. But day in and day out I feel depressed.
"I don't know," said the sign. "I've met a lot of people while posing for lots of pictures. Of 'em all you're one of a very few who seems to have a really good shot at happiness."
"How can you tell?"
"'Cause you know you're not happy and 'cause I think you have a good idea what will make you happy. Most people that end up here beside me don't realize whether they're happy or not. They're all distracted, lost in this world. Hell, most don't even say 'Hello' when I do talk to them!"
"Red Star, I've heard it said that knowledge comes but wisdom lingers. How did you get to be so wise?"
"I'm a sign," he chirped in that conceited New Jersey accent.
I slowly put my belongings back into my pack while reflecting on the words of Red Star. I didn't feel self-conscious in any way because I was certain Red Star had seen it all before. You know what I'm talking about - hiker reaches the end of the trail, looks around, enjoys a drink and heads back.
"Don't go if there's something else bothering you. I've got a long afternoon ahead and tomorrow's Monday. I may not see anyone until next weekend."
I laughed. "There's always the mule deer."
Red Star, quite seriously, replied, "There is one who's kinda cute. She doesn't come by often, but if she were to stop by right now I'd pretend you don't even exist."
I laughed again incredulously, and then pondered his words for a moment. Before even realizing it I blurted out, "What ever could exist between you and a deer?"
"My searching friend, happiness, like all things, is a perception. It exists within you."
So certain was his reply, I sat stupefied.
"Red Star, what do you mean a perception? I have books on my shelf I won't read because I don't understand them. Is this a matter of perception?"
"Absolutely. It is common belief we must react to our environment rather than meet it or exist within it."
"I don't follow."
"In football, if the defense shifts to the right and you're carrying the ball, then you cut left. You react. But in baseball if you're playing catcher and a runner is heading home, you'd better be there to meet him. In one situation you avoid, in the other you engage."
"And your meaning?"
"My meaning, lone hiker, is that the world exists within you. Me, the mule deer, and your happiness is a part of this. It is all as real as these rocks that surround us. But at the same time it is your perception or interpretation of the intelligence that surrounds us all."
"I'm overwhelmed."
"Am I a sign or intelligence expressed as wood and plastic?"
"Am I an intelligent expression of flesh and bone?"
"That I cannot answer."
"You're really screwing with my head Red."
"Red Star! And you've missed the point here. Your perception is taking over."
"Right."
"Take a drink and relax for a moment."
"My mind is exhausted."
"Yeah, well, how do you think I feel sittin' out here half-baked every day in the sun?"
"How long have you been here?"
"Long enough to have met all the mule deer in the park and too many scorpions."
I took a deep breath before continuing and on the exhale I spoke my piece. "So how do I escape my perceptions?"
"Look, I don't have all the answers," he said in a rather humble tone. "But your goal shouldn't be to escape your perceptions, only to alter them a little. Change comes slowly; just ask these mountains."
"I might," I muttered under my breath.
"It's impossible for you to escape this reality. Your mind won't tolerate it. But as things evolve, subsequent generations will not hold the same truths as we do, nor will they be hindered by our limits."
"I'm not so optimistic, Red Star."
"That doesn't really matter. But this shouldn't be depressing. There is no way for us to conceptualize the world as it really is. Therefore we try to encapsulate the moment. There is no right or wrong."
"You've taken me to the edge. I want to wrap my mind around it all, but then I see the abyss and my breath becomes shallow while my heart sinks."
"Don't separate yourself from it all. You, me, and the scorpions are all part of the infinite possibility."
"You're a damn talking sign, Red Star!"
"That is what your senses tell you. But maybe we are one and the same: intelligence, albeit expressed differently."
I sat there without speaking for what seemed like forever. The sun was now turning toward its downward arc. Red Star became less animated and I almost lost him, as you might lose the image in one of those magic eye prints sold at the mall.
Admittedly I liked what Red Star had to say. My own beliefs and perceptions had taken me only so far. I was far too myopic in my views. When I got to the precipice I had seen only entropy and infinite chaos. Now a sign that read "End of Trail" had calmed my mind like a fun diversion, but without the loss of consciousness.
"It is time for me to go, Red Star."
"Well I must say it has been a pleasure. Not too many folks make it this far up the canyon, and even fewer have anything meaningful to say. Hell, some even shove their tired asses right up in front of me."
"Thank you for the enlightenment. You have opened my eyes and now I must unlearn some things in order to move forward," I said smiling.
"Before you go would you mind pouring a little of your water on my face? It gets kind of dusty out here and I don't expect much moisture until next winter."
"You betcha, Red."
"Red Star!"
I met some other hikers on the way back through the canyon. While they all seemed quite friendly I didn't tell them about Red Star or the things he shared with me. I figured they might meet him without my help, or they may just have to find their way elsewhere. Anything's possible.