It was Tuesday and I knew I had to escape, even temporarily, the drudge I had dug for myself. My life had evolved into a seemingly endless array of projects, deadlines and unrealistic expectations.As I drove toward the mountains, with their trails through the woods, I couldn’t help but think that this break would only add to my existing stress rather than to help relieve it.

I found the parking area, not much more than a wide spot down an old dirt road. It had been miles since I last saw any real signs of civilization, either past or current. I got out of the car and started walking around, searching for the trail-head that would lead me into the forest. I found nothing more than an opening less grown over than the area on either side. I started in.

It only took a couple of dozen strides before I was keenly aware of what nature had put around me. The silent breeze felt relaxing on my arms and face. The squirrels and chipmunks surprised me as they scurried around, probably just as startled to see me. The songbirds were serenading each other, their chatter bringing an ambiance of elevator music around me. And though I couldn’t see it or hear it, the smell of over-saturated soil and the pungent aroma of ferns and succulents confirmed there had to be a stream nearby.

As my feet fell into a rhythmic beat, I trudged further down the path into the spring greenery. My mind was still racing ahead, reminding me that all of the unfinished projects and looming deadlines were still waiting for me and getting more urgent each moment I spent ignoring them. No matter how much I tried to shut out the inner voices, all I could think about was my to-do list, each item calling to me to make it my priority as the whole list would feel much easier to tackle if I could just get that one item crossed off. No matter how hard I mentally prioritized my list, it still felt like I had pages of highest priority items.

And then it hit me – or, rather, and then I hit it, whatever “it” was. A huge mirror? Blocking the path? Though I could still see the path meandering straight ahead? Then it registered. Backing away and looking around, the path turned off to the right. The mirror had been placed at such an angle that the forest seemed continuous and the trail just followed along in the same general direction. I couldn’t see my reflection in it until I was right up on it, having already passed the “point of no return”.

What should I do? The easy solution would be to turn around and back-track my steps all the way to the car waiting for me in the parking area. Or, I could turn to the right, following the remnants of the trail deeper into the north Georgia woods. As soon as I took my first step onward I heard the birds again, noticed the wind brushing against my cheeks, smelled all that Mother Nature had left for me to take in. My steps got a little lighter and a little quicker. My mind slowed down as I ignored the tremendous urge to flee back to the apparent safety of chaos.

Just as I was comfortable within my cocoon of new experiences, BAM! Another mirror? This one, just as imposing yet undetectable as the first, loomed above me. This one was angled to the left. It was decision time once again. I could easily take this as a sign to abandon my current path and turn back or I could just treat it as a detour, letting me know I was headed in the wrong direction and to continue toward my goal, that I needed to change course to move forward. Since I was striving to do something different from what I was used to doing in hopes of changing the direction of my life, I chose to continue on and not reverse course back to where I had just come.

Though confident in the moment I had made the right decision, doubt crept in as I continued on my journey. Was it wise to ignore my years of experience to continue on this whim of an idea that I might find something different? Or was I just wasting time, postponing the workload and ignoring the deadlines that waited for me back home, thus worsening the situation I would face when I returned? Someone once told me the greatest distance on earth is the 11″ between a man’s brain and his heart. In my internal battle, my brain was telling me to turn around and flee back to safety. My heart was telling me to continue on, enjoy the moment, relish the experience for what it is and nothing more. I found it difficult to allow my heart to take control over my brain, but continue on, I did.

As I walked on I encountered more mirrors. Some faced left, others faced right. Some with slight angles, many with large angles. I continued down the path, now just as intrigued to know where I was headed as I was to escape the mundane existence of everyday life. And then it happened. I reached a point where I was completely surrounded by mirrors. They were positioned in a way that all I could see was the reflection of everything around me, the trees, the paths, everything except me. I couldn’t find how I got in and couldn’t find a way out. I crumpled to the ground, defeated and deflated.

I laid there, curled up in a fetal position, both comforting myself and admonishing myself for making such a bad decision to keep going though all the signs said to turn back. I wished I were home. I slowly sat up, my knees bent and my feet flat on the ground. I leaned back, supporting my weight with my hands and arms behind me, much like the times sitting on the beach soaking in the rays of the sun and the sounds of the surf. I closed my eyes and pictured myself on that beach. There were no worries. Work was waiting for me when I got back but that’s what it would have to do – wait. The time at the beach was for me. A time to recharge my batteries so I could better handle all that life threw at me when I got back home. Why was it acceptable to leave life’s worries behind to go on vacation to the beach for a week, but not okay to escape for a couple of hours during the work week? Maybe this was what I was searching for, a week’s worth of vacation crammed into a 2 hour time span.

I slowly opened my eyes, squinting from the dappled sunlight streaking through the trees. I sat there comforted in the surroundings just as I had been at the beach, both in reality and just now in my mind. I looked around from my seated position expecting to find the obvious way out that I was too frantic to see during my earlier panic. What I found was everything was just as I left it, surrounded by mirrors, life reflected all around and I was caught in the middle.

As the reality of my predicament settled in, I became more aware of how uncomfortable I was. My legs were cramping up from all of the walking and my arms were tired from helping support my body weight while I sat there. And what was this under my hand, hard and rough, so out of place in this idyllic setting I had put myself? A rock – about the size of a baseball. I had played ball from the time I was a young boy, playing with the other neighborhood children in the local park. I had won many ribbons on field day for being able to throw a softball further than anyone else in my grade. One thing I knew about baseballs is that I could throw one hard and fast.

Half without thinking and half out of rage of my current situation, I threw that rock straight ahead with every ounce of strength I could muster. I placed all my energy into that rock. For that instant in time I put my whole being into that rock. Nothing else mattered right then. Within the blinking of an eye, the rock struck the mirror that was directly in it’s path. The rock didn’t bounce off, it carried right through the mirror, shattering it into thousands of tiny shards that fell to the ground. In front of me was a path begging me to follow. In the distance was a sun drenched clearing… and my car, parked exactly where I had left it just a couple of hours before.