It’s like a good friend

Thirteen years ago, we bought land in Galax Virginia. It became our weekend camping destination. The first improvement was an outdoor shower.  Tim used piping to make a frame and then we lined it with a straw curtain. We hung a rubber bladder from the tree to be warmed by the sun and gravity carried the water out of the small spout.

For our sleeping quarters, we found a rusty steel platform in the woods and dragged it to the top of the hill. We laid two-by-fours and plywood to create an elevated site for our tent. We used rocks from the land to build a firepit. We called this spot Gilligan’s Island.

There were many great camping weekends until carpenter ants devoured the tent while it was stored in our shed. Since winter was on the horizon anyway, rather than buying a new tent, we ended the ants’ lease and converted the shed into our own shelter. With this set up, on a Saturday night, we would first enjoy the firepit and the stars and then head into our luxury quarters where we had an air mattress, sleeping bag, and portable DVD player. Because we had no electricity or cell phone service, we would watch a movie until the battery died.

Over these few years, we had shopped for log home packages several times, and then one day Tim spontaneously made the purchase. While the house was being built, we worked the land, cut the pastures, and created a system of hiking trails. These typically originated as deer paths which had already been worn down and deemed a worthy route by the local herds. We marked trees with paint to color code, and if a friend or family member helped us clear or maintain the trail at any point, it was officially named after them – Whitney and Wade’s Way, Jackie Junction, Larry Lane, Belton By-way, and who can forget the Kritzer-Schneider Schnieder-Kritzer Stream Trail. Yes, the naming convention was my idea.

We also liked to find non-literal deer paths when traveling to new places. Within a day we would have a comfortable and familiar way to consistently walk from our hotel toward whatever was planned next.  It was also even more helpful when finding our way back. I realized the importance of this our first night in Venice – not an easy city to navigate, especially in the dark.

We started calling these routes our deer paths. They were comfortable and known in a foreign place.  and provided us with the feeling of control in an unfamiliar situation. And there are times when we all certainly need that.

I have been thinking about my own deer paths lately. The consistent rituals that I’ve created to navigate my life, especially these past few years. With very little intention, I have fallen into routines that are comfortable. Morning coffee time is one of the basics. I review timeline photos and Facebook memories while sipping two cups of extra white, Georgia Pecan coffee. Depending on the weather, I am either on my rooftop deck or fireside in my living room. I process memories through smiles and tears while my very patient best buddy takes advantage of this time for a nap even though he has just awakened from a full night’s sleep.

After emptying that final cup, it is time to hit the next deer path. Hank and I walk out through the garage into our alley then to the nearest grass belonging to the dental office next door. Hank has his own rituals and always makes his first stop at the Midtown Dental Ash tree.

We don’t get to control the entirety of our life. But we do make choices, big and small. We behave in certain ways. We take action or not. If we are lucky, we have a mind that allows us to determine our own approach and to select our emotions. And as humans we do crave a certain amount of predictability.

I find predictability in my deer paths. I suppose a deer path is a lot like a good friend. You know where it is and where it goes, however, it still requires some maintenance to keep the path worn just enough so you can see it and never feel lost.

Some may consider a deer path boring, too routine, lacking in adventure or variety. I like to think of them as part of my fortune. If I have figured out that something works for me, brings me joy, and lends me comfort, I feel pretty content about that. I am not here to lead a wildly unpredictable life. That’s not my journey. But just because I have a few deer paths does not mean I am stuck. To me it feels more like being grounded. Even in times of turmoil, fear, or complete unfamiliarity, a deer path can hold me in place, so there is less worry or anxiety. It gives me a place to start from.

The days of maintaining the trails on our hundred-acre property are part of my past that I certainly long for during times when urban living feels taxing. But even then, following one of my new deer paths is a wonderful reminder that I still have the choice to create my way, call it my own, and even name it just for fun.