The sucking sound of tires on wet asphalt builds up behind, to a piercing crescendo, then shoots forward, like the release of a rubber band, as a silver sedan races past.
I wrote this poem from the memory of something I’ve found myself doing in so many countries around the world—Czechia, Austria, Spain, Portugal, Argentina, Thailand, USA and my home country of Canada—walking on the side of the road.
On reflection, it felt like an apt metaphor for my current stage of life.
A wanderer. Solely alone. Somewhat broke. Daring to move in slowness. To do what is contrarian, misunderstood. Tread an untamed path that few choose to walk. Trying to follow the straight and narrow way to life, that Jesus speaks of. Not sure if it’s dangerous. Not sure if I’m lost. Not sure I’m supposed to be here. But going ahead anyways. Feeling like everyone is whipping by. Feeling like there’s no real place for me in this world. Kicking rocks.
My eyes adjusting. To not being able to see far into my future—my uncertainty tolerance growing. But also to the darkness that can come for me, unannounced.
Sometimes life feels like standing under a downpour.
The rain and dark clouds are symbolic of the discomfort and darkness and heaviness and tiredness that sometimes accompany me on my way. Water is an ancient symbol of chaos and the unknown. But also potential, where new things emerge. Rebirth. Like baptism. Darkness is where the light of revelation is seen and new horizons are formed.
It’s a difficult time of not knowing. But there’s a letter of invitation to embrace its beauty. Beauty in my immediate surroundings if I only pay attention. Nature as my companion through hardship. And beauty in the striving, the simple wish to find a way.
There’s an arc throughout the poem. Learning how to inhabit and embrace my aloneness, to put down its weight. Falling into a rhythm in each small step, keeping warm by keeping moving. Having a coat now, a better although imperfect way to survive the storm. Letting go of the need to know, to keep time, to compare. Accepting there will be no stark arrival.
Finding an identity as the one who mediates through both darkness and lightness, heaviness and lightness, chaos and order, nature and civilization. Not one or the other but the being between them. Who triumphs in both. But accepting the current state I find myself in as good news. Letting it work on me. Not asking premature questions. Feeling it all. Trusting.
Then the weather clears—that moment we remember that every dark cloud passes, even though it’s seeming permanence fools us. And there’s this radical remembrance. This return—a coming back to myself. This realization of hope and aliveness and wonder. That I’m made to handle all this and walk this path. That life is a boon and a blessing.
I thought carefully about each line. I hope you find the gems you look for.
This was a lovely addition to the essay. As you know, we share similar struggles in walking an uncertain path. I often return to one of my favourite books, The Lion Tracker's Guide To Life, in times of self-doubt and questioning. A few of the lines that I love most:
#1: "Somewhere deep within a voice whispers, “I don’t know where I’m going but I know exactly how to get there.” The wild self knows what you were meant to do. The wild self is whispering."
#2: "In my own life, I have often struggled with the first track. Full of grand visions and the desire to do something great, I often couldn’t find the first small beginning and then the next small beginning. I couldn’t dial huge possibilities into small practical actions. I couldn’t trust that doing enough of what needed to be done today would, with time, render a path and an outcome that could be great. I had to learn to be in the process of transformation, not trying to be transformed. You can’t skip past creating to the creation."
#3: "Step off the superhighway of modern life and go quietly onto your own track. Go to a new trail where you can hear the whisper of your wild self in the echoes of the forest. Find the trail of something wild and dangerous and worthy of your fear and joy and focus. Live deeply on your own inner guidance. There is nothing more healing than finding your gifts and sharing them."
I could share 100 more fantastic lines (the whole book is highlightable) but will leave it at three for now. Hopefully these words offer the same reassurance to you as they do me in times of darkness, not knowing, and questioning.
I'm happily drenched by your shared memory. How do you keep going deeper and finding more life in smaller and smaller moments? This is not just the art of expression, but of perception. The degree to which you can take somebody somewhere with words is dependent on how "there" you have been yourself. You've turned "wherever you go, there you are" to "wherever Tommy goes, I get to go too."
Haha this made me break into a smile Rick. Your comments are always a treat.
I hadn’t thought about the “zooming in” of my writing so that’s super helpful input.
I certainly have found myself walking on roadsides many times these past few years, in many countries. So it felt like both a literal and poetic metaphor for my current stage in life.
I’m glad I could take you along. You’re inspiring me with your words to make sure I go to better places!
Karen, thank you so much for reading & the kind note. Made my day (:
I’m really glad you look forward to my writing. Seriously means a lot. Saturday mornings certainly are glorious. They were my favourite time of week as a kid and continue to be today.
Really enjoyed this one Tommy. I finished it and thought to myself, “that read like a beautiful poem” And then reading your comment saw that’s how you intended it to be, a poem. Loved the same lines people mentioned above about being the rain not the sun etc.
Poems were the first type of writing I fell in love with and what I’ve been reading a lot of recently so it was fun to return.
I’m glad that idea resonated. I’ve been toying with that notion of not identifying with the good or bad, but as the one who mediates and moves through both.
Thanks again for your time & kindness. Means the world
This was great pal. Your ability to write sensory details, to fill the reader's head with descriptions as if they were right there with you, continues to astound me every week. I love watching you continue to expand your skills at this craft, bravely experimenting with new styles and approaches.
This line was especially great: "And I don’t mind the weather. I’ve decided it’s all good news. I am neither the rain nor the sun, the forest nor the road, but the one who walks between. Who exists through both. The bridge across the cracks of this broken world." I can definitely relate to walking everywhere I go, no matter the weather or the distance.
Thanks for making my Saturday Morning with your writing, as always.
Thanks Jack. Your kind words seriously mean a lot to me, week in week out. Writing can be solitary but I’m lucky to have you in my corner.
I’m glad that bit resonated. I’ve been toying with that notion of not identifying with the good or bad, but as the one who mediates and moves through both. Just accepting it all. Feeling it all. And still walking.
It’s also a very literal metaphor as I find myself walking on the side of some road so often.
Appreciate you taking the time & being so thoughtful
...delightful descriptions o' man of light...the earth around me has been drinking sky soda for about a week now and everything is so alive afterwards...i just want to sleep in it, but that might be a waste of "time"...i especially enjoyed your close doog --> "I don’t know exactly what I mean by all of this. But I mean it." --> if that isn't creation?...i have to make this...what is it?...that is for you to decide ol' adventurer...peace and pancakes bud...
Haha this is awesome CansaFis. “Drinking sky soda” has to be patented or trademarked somehow (or both?)
I’m happy the last line resonated. It felt fitting as some parts of the essay, especially the end, felt a bit above my head. The term “child of light” came to me one drowsy morning journaling out of absolutely nowhere and I don’t know what it means but I like it.
'I don't know exacrtly what I mean by all of this. But I mean it.' Good stuff good stuff...just when you least expect it, you bring a bit of the old Tommy irony
Tommy, I saw your latest post in my unread mail and put off reading it because I knew it would need thought, participation, and a plunge into compelling ideas. I savored the pieces today, a bit sad when I finished reading because it was done.
Your poem drew me beside you on your walk. Thank you for the invitation and sensory experience. Outstanding!
I know people lead extremely busy lives so it’s an incredibly kind compliment when someone carves out the space to really read your work. It means a lot (:
This was a new style of writing. Essay poetry perhaps. I tried to be more subtle, symbolic. Less direct.
I’m so glad it resonated. I’m not sure if it’s “my thing” but it was a fun experiment to try.
I really do appreciate all your support. Means a lot - especially on hard weeks (:
I wrote this poem from the memory of something I’ve found myself doing in so many countries around the world—Czechia, Austria, Spain, Portugal, Argentina, Thailand, USA and my home country of Canada—walking on the side of the road.
On reflection, it felt like an apt metaphor for my current stage of life.
A wanderer. Solely alone. Somewhat broke. Daring to move in slowness. To do what is contrarian, misunderstood. Tread an untamed path that few choose to walk. Trying to follow the straight and narrow way to life, that Jesus speaks of. Not sure if it’s dangerous. Not sure if I’m lost. Not sure I’m supposed to be here. But going ahead anyways. Feeling like everyone is whipping by. Feeling like there’s no real place for me in this world. Kicking rocks.
My eyes adjusting. To not being able to see far into my future—my uncertainty tolerance growing. But also to the darkness that can come for me, unannounced.
Sometimes life feels like standing under a downpour.
The rain and dark clouds are symbolic of the discomfort and darkness and heaviness and tiredness that sometimes accompany me on my way. Water is an ancient symbol of chaos and the unknown. But also potential, where new things emerge. Rebirth. Like baptism. Darkness is where the light of revelation is seen and new horizons are formed.
It’s a difficult time of not knowing. But there’s a letter of invitation to embrace its beauty. Beauty in my immediate surroundings if I only pay attention. Nature as my companion through hardship. And beauty in the striving, the simple wish to find a way.
There’s an arc throughout the poem. Learning how to inhabit and embrace my aloneness, to put down its weight. Falling into a rhythm in each small step, keeping warm by keeping moving. Having a coat now, a better although imperfect way to survive the storm. Letting go of the need to know, to keep time, to compare. Accepting there will be no stark arrival.
Finding an identity as the one who mediates through both darkness and lightness, heaviness and lightness, chaos and order, nature and civilization. Not one or the other but the being between them. Who triumphs in both. But accepting the current state I find myself in as good news. Letting it work on me. Not asking premature questions. Feeling it all. Trusting.
Then the weather clears—that moment we remember that every dark cloud passes, even though it’s seeming permanence fools us. And there’s this radical remembrance. This return—a coming back to myself. This realization of hope and aliveness and wonder. That I’m made to handle all this and walk this path. That life is a boon and a blessing.
I thought carefully about each line. I hope you find the gems you look for.
Walking roadside.
This was a lovely addition to the essay. As you know, we share similar struggles in walking an uncertain path. I often return to one of my favourite books, The Lion Tracker's Guide To Life, in times of self-doubt and questioning. A few of the lines that I love most:
#1: "Somewhere deep within a voice whispers, “I don’t know where I’m going but I know exactly how to get there.” The wild self knows what you were meant to do. The wild self is whispering."
#2: "In my own life, I have often struggled with the first track. Full of grand visions and the desire to do something great, I often couldn’t find the first small beginning and then the next small beginning. I couldn’t dial huge possibilities into small practical actions. I couldn’t trust that doing enough of what needed to be done today would, with time, render a path and an outcome that could be great. I had to learn to be in the process of transformation, not trying to be transformed. You can’t skip past creating to the creation."
#3: "Step off the superhighway of modern life and go quietly onto your own track. Go to a new trail where you can hear the whisper of your wild self in the echoes of the forest. Find the trail of something wild and dangerous and worthy of your fear and joy and focus. Live deeply on your own inner guidance. There is nothing more healing than finding your gifts and sharing them."
I could share 100 more fantastic lines (the whole book is highlightable) but will leave it at three for now. Hopefully these words offer the same reassurance to you as they do me in times of darkness, not knowing, and questioning.
Those are all awesome and endlessly worth revisiting.
Thanks for sharing Jack (:
"Letting it work on me. Not asking premature questions. Feeling it all. Trusting. "
Incredible Tommy!
I can tell it came from heart and flow
Thanks Terra (: i think it did come from the heart as some parts my mind doesn't fully understand
really appreciate the support !
I'm happily drenched by your shared memory. How do you keep going deeper and finding more life in smaller and smaller moments? This is not just the art of expression, but of perception. The degree to which you can take somebody somewhere with words is dependent on how "there" you have been yourself. You've turned "wherever you go, there you are" to "wherever Tommy goes, I get to go too."
Haha this made me break into a smile Rick. Your comments are always a treat.
I hadn’t thought about the “zooming in” of my writing so that’s super helpful input.
I certainly have found myself walking on roadsides many times these past few years, in many countries. So it felt like both a literal and poetic metaphor for my current stage in life.
I’m glad I could take you along. You’re inspiring me with your words to make sure I go to better places!
Hope your weekend is lovely (:
“I am neither the rain nor the sun, the forest nor the road, but the one who walks between. Who exists through both.”
Present and One.
Thank you James. I’m so happy that line resonated (wasn’t sure if it would come across as strange or confusing haha)
Thank you Tommy. I so look forward to your posts. What a wonderful way to wake up on this glorious Saturday morning. Your friend in my mind, Karen😎
Karen, thank you so much for reading & the kind note. Made my day (:
I’m really glad you look forward to my writing. Seriously means a lot. Saturday mornings certainly are glorious. They were my favourite time of week as a kid and continue to be today.
I hope your Saturday was lovely (:
Really enjoyed this one Tommy. I finished it and thought to myself, “that read like a beautiful poem” And then reading your comment saw that’s how you intended it to be, a poem. Loved the same lines people mentioned above about being the rain not the sun etc.
Thanks J! (Your new username made me smile)
Poems were the first type of writing I fell in love with and what I’ve been reading a lot of recently so it was fun to return.
I’m glad that idea resonated. I’ve been toying with that notion of not identifying with the good or bad, but as the one who mediates and moves through both.
Thanks again for your time & kindness. Means the world
This was great pal. Your ability to write sensory details, to fill the reader's head with descriptions as if they were right there with you, continues to astound me every week. I love watching you continue to expand your skills at this craft, bravely experimenting with new styles and approaches.
This line was especially great: "And I don’t mind the weather. I’ve decided it’s all good news. I am neither the rain nor the sun, the forest nor the road, but the one who walks between. Who exists through both. The bridge across the cracks of this broken world." I can definitely relate to walking everywhere I go, no matter the weather or the distance.
Thanks for making my Saturday Morning with your writing, as always.
Thanks Jack. Your kind words seriously mean a lot to me, week in week out. Writing can be solitary but I’m lucky to have you in my corner.
I’m glad that bit resonated. I’ve been toying with that notion of not identifying with the good or bad, but as the one who mediates and moves through both. Just accepting it all. Feeling it all. And still walking.
It’s also a very literal metaphor as I find myself walking on the side of some road so often.
Appreciate you taking the time & being so thoughtful
Really enjoyed reading this. You transported me to your walk along that road with your descriptions. Writing is a special kind of time travel.
Thank you, Jonny. I really appreciate you reading & taking the time to leave a kind note.
You’re so right. Writing certainly is time travel.
Hope you have a lovely weekend (:
...delightful descriptions o' man of light...the earth around me has been drinking sky soda for about a week now and everything is so alive afterwards...i just want to sleep in it, but that might be a waste of "time"...i especially enjoyed your close doog --> "I don’t know exactly what I mean by all of this. But I mean it." --> if that isn't creation?...i have to make this...what is it?...that is for you to decide ol' adventurer...peace and pancakes bud...
Haha this is awesome CansaFis. “Drinking sky soda” has to be patented or trademarked somehow (or both?)
I’m happy the last line resonated. It felt fitting as some parts of the essay, especially the end, felt a bit above my head. The term “child of light” came to me one drowsy morning journaling out of absolutely nowhere and I don’t know what it means but I like it.
Appreciate your support & kindness (:
'I don't know exacrtly what I mean by all of this. But I mean it.' Good stuff good stuff...just when you least expect it, you bring a bit of the old Tommy irony
Rosana! So good to hear from you (:
Haha this made me smile. I found that last randomly and then fell in love with it.
I’ve been gaining a deeper appreciation for British dry humour and wit recently but it’s hard to weave into writing.
Tommy, I saw your latest post in my unread mail and put off reading it because I knew it would need thought, participation, and a plunge into compelling ideas. I savored the pieces today, a bit sad when I finished reading because it was done.
Your poem drew me beside you on your walk. Thank you for the invitation and sensory experience. Outstanding!
It’s so good to hear from you J.T.
I know people lead extremely busy lives so it’s an incredibly kind compliment when someone carves out the space to really read your work. It means a lot (:
This was a new style of writing. Essay poetry perhaps. I tried to be more subtle, symbolic. Less direct.
I’m so glad it resonated. I’m not sure if it’s “my thing” but it was a fun experiment to try.
I really do appreciate all your support. Means a lot - especially on hard weeks (:
Keep playing with different styles, Tommy. I will keep reading your work!
🫶
Tommy!
I was right there with you, my friend. Kicking those pebbles. Full of wonder at the surrounding sounds and sights of nature.
Brilliant, mo chāra.
👏✍️
Thanks Kevin. I’m sure you didn’t need a reminder of rain! But appreciate you coming alone (: hope your weekend is lovely