The Bridge

Off in the distance, I see an old bridge, covered by vines and branches of trees that have fallen over time. From a distance, it’s hard to see whether it’s crossable.

As I walk toward the bridge, I see how fragile it is, with all of its rickety planks of wood, cracks along the way. I wonder if it’s safe to make my way across it, to see where it leads. And as I get closer, I see images of what waits on the other side. There is beauty in the rich and vibrant blanket of flowers and lushness of green bushes and plants. I hear the sound of water trickling in a stream.

And, in a fleeting moment, I see the brilliantly colored butterflies drifting through the light breeze.

I approach and begin walking cautiously over the bridge. I take off my heavy backpack, shedding the weight of what feels like rocks, things I once held onto for some reason but no longer need. I take off my heavy boots, to lighten my own step.

I let down my hair, feeling it release into a wind that is picking up its pace, inviting me to keep going. I make my way, noticeably lighter by having released that which I no longer needed. As I get to the other side, I am embraced by an invisible hug.

A voice within greets me, saying “Welcome home. Welcome home to peace.”

And I understand the journey with more insight than I could have imagined. This bridge brought me from a place of tension and chaos; the crowded space in my head, my heart, and my life; space filled with noise and chatter that wasn’t allowing me to live in peace.

As I crossed the bridge, I gained clarity of the direction I was headed, the path I was on. I saw the hopes and dreams I left behind as I moved from childhood to adolescence to young adult, through the experiences of decades and finally to this place of inner peace.

This side of the bridge envelopes me with contentment, discovery, and, most of all, gratitude. Like the bridge, we are resilient as human beings. We have the ability to release what we no longer need or choose not to carry, combined with the courage to cross the bridge. We leave behind some certainty—good or bad—so we can make our way to the garden that greets us in all its splendor.

I am at peace, whole with myself, grounded by the anchor of an inner compass that has provided me direction, leading me to this place, and helping me let go and rediscover the peacefulness.

The Bridge was written by Karen Hoffman and originally published in House of Peace.