Where do you want to go?

The Beginning

I woke up that Saturday morning with a pressing nudge to hike my favorite place, Newlands Forest. It's a place I go to unwind and refresh my mind, and that morning I was looking forward to seeing it with fresh eyes. I thought I'd make the most of it by inviting someone to share the experience. At the time I had just met a lady who only agreed to exchange contact when I proposed going for a hike, but she had just finished a 26hr shift, so I had to go alone.

I dressed warm, because it was a bit chilly that morning, packed a bottle of water and a protein bar, then drove to Newlands. The parking lot was alive, busy and buzzing as usual. I stepped out of the car and began my journey.

That morning before I left home, I had decided I was going to take the route on the left, which is the route that leads to Kirstenbosch. For the first time, I had a specific destination in mind. Normally I'd just go to explore and see how far I can go, which I always enjoy because I get to see new things and maybe reach a new destination each time, just not a pre-determined one. I'd usually just go until I feel tired, or until it feels far enough. Unbeknownst to me at the time —

"There's no journey without a destination, just roaming." — Isaiah Omotayo

So at the beginning of this journey, on this beautiful day, I walked into a vibrant atmosphere. A crowd of people, alive with enthusiasm and excitement in their eyes for the journey they were about to embark on. Young, old, middle-aged, kids, families, groups and dogs, all beaming with passion. Seeing this got me pumped up — I felt encouraged and motivated even though I was walking alone. So the journey began.

The Question

As I journeyed through the forest that beautiful Saturday, I came across three different people who surprisingly asked me the same question, a question that brought things into perspective and has since changed my outlook on what it truly means to go on any kind of journey. Be it hiking through a forest, changing career paths, or reaching any kind of goal.

About fifteen minutes into the hike, before I met any of the guys who would ask me that mind-altering question, I noticed the voices of the people I had been walking with began to echo from a distance as their footsteps faded, each of us navigating our own path. Then I realized —

"The energetic crowd at the beginning of any journey is not enough reason to embark on it." — Isaiah Omotayo

Think of an entrance gate of a school and the reality of each learner in their various classrooms or library, when it boils down to why they are there as an individual versus what they were meant to do there as students.

Based on this reflection, I was not fazed by my new reality of walking alone. I came to terms with the fact that we had all come there to explore different trails, headed for different destinations. So I carried on walking, determined to reach mine, even as the paths grew still and quiet enough to hear every little sound my own footsteps made.

After walking for about 30 to 40 minutes, I reached a juncture where I had to decide which way to turn. To the right, it looked like it required some uphill hiking. To the left was a bit rocky and steep. I took the left, since in my mind I was not trying to hike up the mountain, hoping the rocky path would lead me where I was headed.

Sadly, it didn't. About 3 minutes into this path, I reached a dead end and realized I had missed my way. I stood there for a couple of minutes trying to assess the situation. Right in front of me was a clear warning sign not to go further, which meant I had to hike back up the rocky path I had just come through. I felt disappointed about the decision that had led me to where I was standing.

Being lost and alone in the bushes was disorienting. But I wasn't as alone as I thought, there was a small, affluent community living in that part of the forest, people fortunate enough to live surrounded by that kind of beauty.

As I began walking back out of the dead end, one of the residents came out with his dog, about to go for a walk. He saw where I was and looked toward me. I greeted him and walked over. I told him I had missed my way and asked, "Where does this path lead to?"

He was the first of three guys who would ask me the same question that day. And the question was:

"Where do you want to go?"

The Help

When you think of help, what comes to mind? You think: assistance, support, sharing what you have, giving what you can, reaching out for the weak, extending yourself out of love.

While all of that might sound good, I'd also like you to consider this —

"In life we will always need help, but what we need gives the relevance to the help we get." — Isaiah Omotayo

After careful reflection on the moment I met that man, I realized the importance of that intersection. He almost remains a stranger in this journal, since I never asked for his name — looking back, I wish I had asked.

I greeted him and asked where the path led, still trying to find my way after missing it. But instead of listing the paths it could connect to, he responded with a question.

"Where do you want to go?"

That question invited me to check within myself: was the conviction to reach my intended destination still there, especially after I had just missed my way? I sat with it for a second. Fortunately, it was still there, so I answered, "Kirstenbosch." He said, "Okay," and asked me to walk with him.

We walked the rocky path together until he had to go his own way. Before he left, he gave me clear directions for the rest of the path, where and when to turn, what to look out for, and what to expect once I got there, because there was some hiking up ahead. He was clear enough that I felt ready, so I thanked him, and we said our goodbyes.

Minutes after we parted ways, I ran into a large group of hikers who were just winging it, headed toward the path I had just come from. One of them asked if I knew where that path led. I told him it was a dead end, going nowhere. They were grateful, and immediately began calling out to the others who had walked further down the lane to turn around.

I was glad I could help, having been in their shoes myself not too long before. Just following my intuition, which for a long way was right, until it wasn't, and I missed my way.

Then it hit me. Winging it might seem cool, because it makes us look brave and wild at heart, but at some point we will need more than intuition, assumption, or perception. It became clear that to preserve our energy for the right endeavors, we need to ask for help.

The Verge of Completion

"The verge of completion is the point in any journey closest to the end, often where the last, and sometimes hardest, tests appear. But before I get to the end of that day's walk, let me share my encounter with the other two guys who asked me that same question."

"Where do you want to go?"

After I helped redirect the group of hikers away from the dead end, we began walking together, and for a moment, it felt as though I was leading the pack. We walked for a bit, and they began discussing amongst themselves. I figured they were talking about where they were going. Then one of them turned to me and asked, "Where are you going?", making him the second of the three to ask me that question. I said, "Kirstenbosch." He said, "No, we're actually hiking up to the top of the mountain."

And so, our journey together ended, and we parted ways.

I got back into my solo mode and continued hiking toward my destination. I followed the first guy's directions, and everything checked out. Then I saw a signpost that read, "Welcome to Kirstenbosch." I smiled and carried on hiking up.

After walking for a while, following the trail as the signposts directed, I came across another group of hikers coming from the direction I was headed. Out of caution, I greeted them and asked where they were coming from. They greeted me back, and one of them spoke, making him the third of the three guys. He asked me the exact same question as the first:

"Where do you want to go?"

By this point, I was already familiar with the question. So again, I told him Kirstenbosch. They gave me directions just as clearly as the first guy did, and also told me to look out for a slippery path ahead. I thanked them, we smiled, and said our goodbyes.

Now we've come toward the end of my walk through the forest that day. Everything checked out just as the guys had described. I walked carefully on the slippery path, and right after, I began to see signposts with names of places inside Kirstenbosch. I knew I was close, because I recognized these names from previous visits, though that day was my first time actually hiking there.

As I slowed my pace to sit in the moment and enjoy the little distance I had left, suddenly I saw a snake. I froze, because it wasn't passing by, nor in the bushes, it was right in front of me, a few meters away, on the very path I needed to walk to get where I was going. I was close to my destination, and according to the last signpost, this was the path I had to follow.

I became frustrated with the situation. I am terrified of snakes, and there was no way to continue without walking straight toward it, which I wasn't willing to do. I looked around, gathered some stones, and tried throwing them in its direction, hoping to scare it off. Unfortunately, that didn't work. This went on for about ten minutes. The snake wasn't moving, and no one else was coming.

So I thought to myself, I would gather some courage and approach it, because I had come too far to turn back and too close to quit. Just as I was about to do that, I heard footsteps and voices behind me. When I looked, it was a mom and her daughter.

They came closer, and I told them about the situation, pointing out the snake's direction. The mom thought she saw it too, but the daughter wasn't sure.

As we were discussing it, two older ladies began walking toward us from the direction where the snake was. That put three of us on one end of the road and two of them on the other, with the snake between us, though they were closer to it.

We wanted to get the attention of the two ladies, but they were so focused on their walk that they didn't even look our way. Since they were already close to where the snake was and looking at the ground as they walked, we hoped they would see it too.

Surprisingly, when they reached where the snake was, they paused for a few seconds while we stood on the opposite end of the road, watching it all unfold.

But guess what? There was no snake at all. We let out a breath of relief, though we were still stunned, so we walked closer to confirm what we had been seeing the whole time. When we got there, we discovered it was a leaf, positioned in a certain way, and with the help of the sunlight, it cast a shadow that made it look exactly like what our minds had feared.

We laughed it off together and carried on walking. When we arrived at Kirstenbosch, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.

In hindsight, reflecting on that moment made me realize that the most difficult fear to overcome in life is the fear of perception. You might be right, and you might be wrong. If you're right, you may have saved yourself from potential danger. If you're wrong, you may have missed a shot at something great. For me that morning, it wasn't the leaf nor its shadow that gave me a fright, but what I perceived it to be.

Perhaps you are exploring a path in life without a specific destination in mind, just a hope to go as far as you can. It might be in your career, a relationship, your walk with Jesus, or whatever it may be.

I would like to ask you a question, from one sojourner to another.

"Where do you want to go?"

This is a question worthy of reflection, not one to be answered hastily. As I've come to believe:

"The certainty about where we're going gives us the fortitude to withstand the challenges we may encounter on our way there." — Isaiah Omotayo

It has been an honor sharing these insights with you. I hope it stirs something within you.

Thank you, my friend. Until next time, keep walking gently.

— The Sojourner