As he stared at the land around him, he began to see footprints from an earlier time, but not just earlier on this day, from days and years past. He saw how travelers had crisscrossed the terrain—running after a stray animal, chasing their heart’s desire. No portion of the land was untouched. When he concentrated, he saw how set after set of footprints overlapped and extended back in time. There was a history in the land. He walked for hours, accompanied by all the travelers from the past. He imagined his prints mixed with those of all the people who had passed, all those yet to come. The landscape sang with the presence of travelers; he was only one among many.
What had they seen? Did they share his awareness? How could he have forgotten so much? How could he see all this and not remember his past and all the paths he had walked? And yet, he began to see, almost for the first time, something else. He felt himself walking again on this ground, felt a future unfolding before him. He could not forget what had not yet happened, and so it began to flow into him—thousands of footsteps, more, millions began to unfurl ahead of him. He saw the future and all the possible paths. The future led him this way and that. It blew him here and there, and he propped himself against the strong wind. Not remember, but imagine.
continuoussearch 