There was once a poor young traveler who embarked on a journey up The Mountain. Time at The Mountain’s base had proven quite difficult and unfulfilling for the young traveler and he yearned to start his life anew in the Beautiful City which lay atop The Mountain’s peak.
The traveler asked everyone he could for guidance on how to crest The Mountain quickly and safely, but no one held the answers to his questions. During the sleepless nights preceding his journey, the traveler wrestled his fear which only grew more and more powerful as the moment of departure drew near. There were a great many paths all seemingly leading to the mountaintop and no assurance that the one he chose would carry him to his destination. Thoughts about the many others who had attempted to reach The Beautiful City but been torn apart by wolves during their journeys plagued his every waking second.
Finally, the day arrived. Racked with worry about what was to come, the young traveler anxiously packed his belongings and set off on his Chosen Path. The mountain path was rocky and steep, but the traveler rejoiced for it appeared to lead to the top and there were no major obstacles as far as the eye could see. Perhaps he had chosen his path wisely and would reach the Beautiful City without too much difficulty.
After several days of climbing, however, a sudden storm consumed the world. Lighting downed many great mountain trees and rain flooded the traveler’s Chosen Path. Caught in the storm’s dark and treacherous bluster, the traveler screamed in fear and fled to a small cave for safety. He curled up against the cave wall with his arms wrapped tightly around his head and his eyes squeezed shut as the storm pummeled the earth and devastated his Chosen Path.
When the storm clouds finally cleared, the young traveler cautiously emerged from the cave to discover that not only had the path ahead completely disappeared but also that the path behind had vanished as well. He could not even locate the mountaintop through the dense woods. The young traveler knelt down and cried for he knew he was lost.
As he sobbed, an old bearded man dressed in weathered robes strode out from the trees. He approached the despairing lad with a sigh and poked him with his cane. The young traveler jumped in surprise and stared at the old man through widened eyes.
“Storms are part of every journey up The Mountain,” the old man said calmly while stroking his beard. “The Way to the Beautiful City is not chosen but found.”
The young traveler grew angry. “How can I know where to go when I don’t even know where I am?” He exclaimed exasperatedly.
The old man smiled and leaned against his cane. “My boy,” he said quietly, “one never knows such things. Remember what I have told you, The Way up The Mountain is found. If one wishes to find the Beautiful City, one must look. One can only find while looking.”
He pierced the young traveler’s heart with his wrinkled eyes. “My boy, listen carefully to this truth: One must search darkness to find light. The Way to the Beautiful City beyond lies deep within.” With that, the old man left the young traveler and went on his way.
The traveler seated himself under a large tree and thought about what the old man had said for some time before drifting into a deep sleep. In his slumber, he dreamed he was running frantically through thickets of sharp thorns to escape a pack of vicious wolves chasing him through the forest. His body was torn and bleeding from the thorns and his legs were marred by wolf bites. Just as he began to think he would surely perish in the dark forest, he reached a clearing with a large fire in middle. He started running faster than he thought possible. He ran straight towards the fire. The fire reflected larger and larger in his eyes until it consumed them entirely. He jumped into the fire and gave himself over to it. The pursuing wolves retreated in fear as he and the fire became one. He felt a peace he had never felt before as the fire healed him and enveloped the entire forest in its light.
When the young traveler awoke, he understood the old man’s words and went looking for a new path up The Mountain. After weeks of rigorous searching, he came upon a village where he saw the old man. Running up to him, the young traveler thanked him for his wise counsel. The old man eyed the young traveler hesitantly. “Tell me, my boy, is this village the Beautiful City? Have you chosen a new path for your journey up The Mountain?”
“Good sir,” the traveler responded, “I have not chosen a path but found The Way. The Beautiful City is not here or there but everywhere.”
“Ah yes,” the old man nodded and embraced the traveler. “Welcome.”