The Wagon

I journey each day on a horse-drawn wagon. It is a fine wagon, and I do all I can to ensure that I will go smoothly to my destination. I pack the wheel bearings with grease. The horses are well-shod and seem to be well-suited to their task. Their harnesses and traces are all in good order. I review my map and carefully plan my route.

Yet, each day ends the same. I start off sure of my driving and my direction. No matter how diligently I apply myself to driving the team and following my route, I always end my day in a ditch or discovering that I am badly off my course, or both. It makes no sense. I am doing everything I can and I am getting no closer to my destination.

One evening, as I sat in my frustration, a man appeared and offered to trade his horses for mine. I was suspicious of his offer; his horses did not appear to be at all tame or suited for harness.

He was frank. His horses are not tame, and they will have their own heads. Yet he insists that his horses will stay on the road I must be on and take me to where I should be going.

Unsure of this offer, I tried a mixed team: some of his horses and some of mine. Two calm, tame, if ineffectual, horses paired with two determined, not-quite-tame horses resulted in disaster. I could not drive at all and nearly lost my wagon in the chaos. I spent the next day repairing my wagon and the night considering my options.

With the dawn came clarity of thought. The way I had been going was getting me precisely nowhere. What did I have to lose? I took the offer, giving up my horses and harnessing his to my wagon. I am still doing the driving. I am still in the same wagon. But I find that the horses seem to know the way. They do not grow more “tame.” Some days, their wildness causes me to let the reins go slack, close my eyes, and hold on to the bench for dear life. They take my driving, no matter how inattentive or timid, and translate it into the direction that draws me ever nearer to where I was meant to be going.

Where I was meant to be going; that is the really odd thing. The further I journey with the new team, the more I realize that I am not going where I thought I should be going — I am going where I am meant to be. I do not know where that is, but with each day the countryside improves and the way becomes easier. I pass through lush green meadows and cross gentle streams easily. I do not know where, exactly, I am going, but I know it will be good.