crossing streamYou’re walking through the woods on a warm, bright Spring day.  Everything is a lush green color highlighted by the sunlight’s rays streaming down through the branches.  The path is grassy and wide and curves down a small hill.  At the foot of the hill is a stream, running full and strong powered by the heavy winter’s snow melt.  The water runs over the pathway, and the grass that is covered by the water sways with the current.  There are several large rocks carefully placed by nature to allow pedestrians to cross.  You carefully step on each of the rocks as you make your way across the small stream.   You stop to watch the water flow and reach to touch it.  It is cold and clear and rushes past your hand.  You can see everything beneath the water:  the rocks, the grass, the leftover fall leaves, and other small plants that hold on tight to keep from being swept away.  The scent is intoxicating, fresh and clean.  The sound is mesmerizing and your senses struggle to take it all in.  When you are ready, you continue past the brook and up the hill leading in to the woods.  Where will you go today?  How will you know when you’re there?

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on purpose

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been searching for an answer to the question, “What is my purpose on this earth?”  Each time I think I’m going in the right direction, I become disillusioned in some way and decide that I’m not quite there yet.  I wonder what it will take to find the answer and what it will look like when I do finally figure it out.  Perhaps it will be something like what T.S.Eliot describes in the quote, “We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”   I’m beginning to suspect it will be something of a quietly learned self-knowledge versus some earth shattering epiphany about the world.

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