Paths of the Ancients

I consider myself to be a bit of a revivalist.  While I certainly indulge in the modern world, part of me yearns for the simplicities of the iron age, when societies remained small and localized, ideologies accepting the idea of multiple divine presences and the greater whole of nature were the norm, and technology had not yet taken away our ability to do on our own.  Certainly, there are those among us in modern civilization that are not beholden to modern ways, but by and large we are at a disconnect with the seemingly more primitive way of life that helped bring us this far in the first place.

There is nowhere I'd rather be than out amidst the trees, moving from place to place with nothing to concern myself with than staying hydrated and carrying with me only minimal protection in the form of a hunting knife; albeit that last bit is only due to the odd looks a hiker gets carrying a sword.  Despite all efforts of modern comforts to get away from or to control nature and the elements, there is nothing that compares to simply being in nature and taking part in the flow of things.  From the smells of the plants and the soil, to the subtle shifts of the air, and the blissfully unassuming sounds of animals that typically go unseen in the surroundings, the trails -- both manmade and intuitive -- offer no shortage of simple joys that we take far too lightly.

When I speak of the paths of the ancients, this is what I refer to.  When I hike -- and I mean truly hike, not just venturing down a dirt road and looking at the scenery, but finding a way through natural terrain with no real goal in mind -- I like to imagine a stronger connection to my surroundings.  I like to envision what the ancients who walked the world before science went about explaining away some of the wonders that once filled our hearts and minds with truly heroic legends and stories about what might be just beyond the beaten path may have seen.  I lose myself in the path in hopes of finding something greater.