Be given enough options, and you’ll find it’s as if you’ve been transported to a maze. If that’s where you are, don’t blame yourself for starting and stopping and starting something else new. Oh child that I was, delays were incurred less from trying to find myself and more from trying to find a way out. So many brief identities to inhabit, corridors leading nowhere, but that needed to be checked off for the sake of some future escape!
Be aware, though, a river with too many directions to flow eventually loses all its energy to go. The forward force of the river is maintained by the sidelining of paths closed to it. Blessed are the days that rush ahead because our feet have only motion to consider, finding themselves in a meaningful groove. From this vantage, any necessary turning (even sharp) becomes more a matter of feel, like a drummer who keeps in time even as the beat alters.
What joy it is to live to a decisive beat, where our will becomes like a tailwind. Somewhere between excessive choice and outright compulsion, our options condense into something stronger and singular. Choice becomes purpose, driving us forward; every decision becomes as natural as orienting ourselves downhill. What need not be climbed to be believed keeps the pace of our life force. Listen to the wind created by the new speed of your now unfaltering steps, the sound of which seems to be hissing: Yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.