I've heard people say they were "taking the high road." But it seems to me that a crucial part of that inglorious journey is in not proclaiming it.
In my experience the high road is often the quietest road. The one where you meet few travelers—the one that is the loneliest.
The "high road" is not a place where your efforts are glorified with a bull horn facebook style nor is it an emblem to be worn like a jewel that sparkles for everyone to see. The "high road" does not glorify you for taking it for then pride would be part of the painful journey and pride cannot be found in the potholes there.
Nor is the "high road" found on a bar stool or in a puff of weed or even in doctor prescibed medication where pain gets its edges knocked off. It is a road where every thorn is thoroughly felt by the barefooted heart.
The puddles on the "high road" are not pools of grandeur to bathe in but the product of silent tears, no wallowing allowed.
Nor is the "high road" a place of exclusivity one can use to trample someone else for not choosing that way. It is more a place of humility where buzzards circle the pieces of flesh still decaying on its spiked peaks.
Admittedly, I have not taken that hard-baked road as often as I should but I found out one thing when I did: Every time I stepped upon its bleak passageways, God was there too.
Maybe that's one reason why it's called, "The high road."
And that's the way I see it from this catbird seat.