Sunday Morning Muses March 29.

Who knows where the path may lead?

Fate is, after all, famously fickle.

We choose the way, but who are we to decide?

Are we better prepared than fate?

Are winds of change a push, or simply permission?

Whose voice whispers our inspiration?

Better yet—are you sure it is you who is choosing?

We aim at a target we have not named

and cannot see.

Sometimes leaping

without possibly knowing

where we will land.

We are told what success looks like.

Point A—to—Point B

The shortest distance.

The most efficient,

the most lucrative.

The least lovely,

the least rewarding.

A life filled with the least

while constantly striving for more.

School teaches straight lines,

goals, measurable outcomes.

careers and civil obedience—

So little room for wonder

for wandering.

But the truth is,

the path twists and turns.

Looking back, it is only an untrustworthy memory.

The path before us does not exist until we choose to take the next step.

Perhaps there is no destination.

Perhaps…

Perhaps there is only the now

 of being who we are,

where we are.

We may feel alone on our path.

We are not.

We are all walking together.

Side by side,

often hand in hand.

And perhaps the destination

was never a place waiting ahead,

But a story to help us move through the world

A story we write.

Leaving us,

Awake to wonder,

Open to change,

And present enough to know

That this step, too, matters.

We cannot know where the path might lead, but—

Perhaps

we have already arrived.