As I watch the glowing rays of the setting sun as a vibrant backdrop for the tall-standing giants whose feet I now rest upon, I find myself reflecting on the voluntary struggle that is this pilgrimage.
It is a journey with no true destination. The only place to arrive is in the experience of challenge and victory in each moment. I am already arrived.
The Forest, she whispers softly to me as I walk determined to press on, priming my body for the collapse of what I have taken for granted for so long.
When we are stripped down to the bare minimums of what our own backs can carry and send forth into the rainy forest, we can truly remember the many simple yet overlooked luxuries of our culture.
It is these very trappings of our culture that will ultimately cause our demise. Our demonstration of influence and exploitation of less fortunate peoples begins to shine through the seams of our societal fabrics, and we quickly look down at our new device so as not to feel the guilt.
We bathe ourselves in the spoils of victory, never looking at the faces of those whose backs we stand upon for such luxury.
It is in these sinister times that we must break away in order to remember.
We must remember our own strength in the face of necessity for survival and ultimately, to remember what is real and true in this life.
We must remember our true character in the shadow of adversity so that we may stand tall and clear in the face of a culture that seeks to exploit the lives of those less fortunate.
We shall look into the eyes of those whose backs have been broken beneath the weight of our gain and only then, choose a new way.
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