I know a lot about slippery slopes.  A hurricane in the Great Smoky Mountains?  The old- timers said such a thing had never happened before.  But there I was, after spending a wild and scary night on top of Mt. Le Conte, staring with wide eyes at unbelievable, complete, crazy devastation.  Enormous trees had been thrown up and set back down like a bunch of pick-up-sticks.  The trail?  The once well-maintained and clearly marked 5½ mile path down was seen only in patches and covered with the trunks of trees too huge to climb over or under.   Clearly, the only way down and back to civilization was to blaze a new trail.  This, I was to learn, is not easy:  it’s not fun, it’s scary, dangerous, dirty, strange, slick, and takes all the quick thought, courage and creativity one can muster.  “Inch by inch, life’s a cinch,” Mom had taught me. Even exercising all possible care, at one point my very life was at stake and I thought I was a goner. Finally, just before nightfall, covered head to toe with mud and blood and my clothes in tatters, I was down.  It made me forever stronger, wiser and braver, but also much more respectful of both the forces of nature and the comforts of civilization.

Humanity is at a similar critical juncture, with no easy paths in sight.  Taking a long view and a deep breath, many have realized just how much is at stake, how connected we all are and how deeply held beliefs may determine our fate. What values can best glue together our shattered sensibilities and give us hope?  What route is on a solid foundation? What direction will lead toward greater enlightenment?  We can’t afford to stand paralyzed by indecision for long.