Crossing the Line

Escaping religion required me to cross over into the neighbors pasture. At night and under the cover of darkness, spreading open the barbed wire meant to protect me, I would venture into his fields. I later learned the fence was there to keep me in, not the other way around. I can distinctly remember the change, that feeling of uneasiness venturing into forbidden paths—but nothing is the way I was warned.

Exploring Washington’s train tunnels is fascinating. Three long tunnels connect the east to the west, shortening track and steep climbs by hours, opening up into a new climates and breathtaking views.

One such tunnel under Snoqualmie Pass has been decommissioned and is now a hiking trail (although most people just drive over it unaware it exists) that in 2.3 miles connects the east and west.

Built in 1910, straight as a string, you can see a pinhole of light at the other end. It’s about a 45 minute walk, and the view at the end is incredible. The men that dug this and built this railroad performed an astonishing feat for the time.

Enter religion—

Religion has an uncanny way of digging itself in—there is no light at the end of the tunnel. The line is not straight and has wandered “to and fro, from the north and even to the east” to seek the answers of life’s questions…and nothing. When does the spectacular view emerge as you break out into the light? No one can say—just keep digging. All the while, no unfinished project boondoggle is too long for religion. Never a breakthrough in a never ending struggle for relevance. Faith is the ultimate play on the human psyche.

And into the dark