...dead ends...

The road that led to no where and the path.

I arrived in the cool of the evening, just as the sun had begun it's slow descent into the earth and a chill settled in the air. The fresh scent of spring tickled my senses as I tramped down a tar-covered path, not necessarily paying attention, staring at my phone for direction, only wanting to ensure I had an adventure for the day.

Though I live roughly 20 minutes away, I had never explored Laumeier Sculpture Park. A natural oasis in this urban jungle, the grounds are littered with sculptures by numerous artists, curated and cared for by a team of individuals.  Some sculptures will capture your imagination, like Pool Complex: Orchard Valley and others will make you giggle, like the dog karaoke installation (I can't recall it's name.)

As I walked, I looked up from my phone to realize that the path had come to an end, with work vehicles crowding the empty expanse. I laughed. Just my luck, I thought. I chose the path that leads to nowhere. It seems to fit my view of my life right now. The path to no where. I turned around, more than a bit agitated, cursing the meager amount of wasted time, and started walking back toward the parking lot, when my eyes caught a glimpse of a shrouded path. Oddly, it could only be seen on the return trek back up the road (or I hadn't been paying attention at all.) I continued to walk, weighing my options, when, at the last moment, I veered, and stepped onto the trail.

My guide

I crept with caution, unsure of what might be around the corner. Though I had pulled up a map, it seemed entirely unhelpful in the moment (mostly because I can't read maps.) So I was forced to blindly explore this space where hundred year old trees bend and sway in the breeze. Where a delicate Breath causes the leaves to rustle and respond. I was alone, but not really. My walking companion, a bird, hopping here, fluttering there, always just a few paces ahead of me, as if to say, Follow me. I know the way. To what or where, I didn't care.

As I roamed deeper into the forest, the song of the crickets intensified, while the sounds of the city faded into inconsequential background noise. I traipsed deeper and deeper down the path, forgetting all that was familiar, allowing myself to be swept away by the beauty and mystery of my surroundings. Some installations made me laugh, while others caused delicious shivers to run down my back. My presence was unannounced, but not unwelcome. I felt as if I were an old friend, who had come to sit and hear stories long forgotten, surrendering myself to their narrative. It was a place where you could get lost, but not really.

Forty five minutes later, I found myself back in the parking lot. I paused, not ready to return to my "real life."

I stepped into the car and sat for a moment, silent, steeping. I had learned too much to take it all in at once. But the most important was this:

Don't fret when you come upon a dead end. Perhaps you can only access the better path on the return journey.

To dead ends!

For more information on Laumeier Sculpture Park, click here.

Eye, Tony Tasset
One of the many installations. I didn't take many pics bc
I didn't know what things were okay to take pics of.
Hopefully I won't get in trouble for posting this...