Path

A Path becomes a path by continual treading. All my life, until my parents died, there was a path to my maternal grandparent’s house. My mother’s “continual treading” curated that path. It was a simple dirt trail from our house that crossed the road, wandered up a slight embankment to their house. The path was a silent symbol of our love for and connection with our grandparents. I always loved that path. In my adult years, I came to appreciate a deeper significance of that vital connection.

Metaphorically speaking, a path has significance to us humans. Paths are created by common connections (continual treading, maybe) in our neighborhood and emerging social relationships. Sometimes our paths end or fade. Significant paths have a way of being sustained, or revitalized. In recent years, for various reasons, I renewed a few paths—some of which go back for decades. Some of these simply popped up through chance reconnections. Some others virtually sailed into my current path due to family crisis—theirs/mine—nevertheless significantly. Reviving and curating these paths has not only been a source of joy, but also filled with happy surprises.

The City of Atlanta and PATH are working together to create a region -wide trail plan. Abandoned railroad beds and other convenient paths gave the start. Connections with The Silver Comet Trail—between Atlanta and the Alabama line along withThe Beltline in Metro Atlanta—provide original the scope of PATH; which includes paved trails, gardens, outdoor-recreation areas, and a wide variety of marked pathways. PATH continues to expand as its patrons increase.

Near my childhood home there is an ancient trail. It follows a ridge several miles north of my home; it runs between the Oconee River to the West, and the Ogeechee River to the East—a distance of about sixty miles between. The original trail is basically a path. It originated as a Native American trail—centuries ago, beginning just above the Georgia Fall Line and ending at Oconee River near Balls Ferry. Over the years as settlers came to Georgia it migrated to a dirt road. About circa 1980 it became a paved road. A wag once said that town and city streets in Georgia followed old cow paths; not true of all of them but you get the point. I think most of the main roads originated like that Native American trail.

The Psalmist thought that when we have a choice, and often need guidance about which path to take. Sometimes it is right to take the path of continual treading—if it is a trusted path. Sometimes we shouuld take the path suddenly offered—as in renewing significant old relationships. I believe that it is sometimes good to branch out into new paths, such as PATH Atlanta offers—in variety, relationships , and opportunities—always with wisdom, a willingness to grow, and reliable guidance.

 ©2025 Copyright Willis H. Moore