Winding Roads

Someone read a poem today.
That made me think

The winding road
is
our lives.

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Many of us reach the same destination.
Albeit different ways,
Different paths, whys, hows,
with different words
for the same concept —
a nearly same experience.

Isn’t that the wonder of our uniqueness
yet sameness?

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We begin a path, a book, a plan,
then change course
for whatever reason.
A break-up.
Job loss.
Dying desire
to live
one’s passion.

Altering our course
we may step back
and the change brings greater challenges
we did not forsee
ahead
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yet we gain along the way
from what we did not know,
And then it is behind us.

 

 

Why focus on the end
when we never know
when
the end will truly be?

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Fluent by John O’Donohue

I would love to live
Like a river flows,
Carried by the surprise
Of its own unfolding.

 

Infinity

When I look, really look at the variety of colors, shades, textures, patterns, sizes, etc., etc., etc., in the garden and mountains beyond, I am stunned.  Consider, for just a moment, the endless shades of pink.

 

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How does that make you feel?