The Shortest Distance Between Two Points

Have you heard the statement "The shortest distance between two points is a straight line?" I have never questioned this and while it certainly appears to be true on the physical plane, it is NOT true of my particular journey. I was thinking on this during a recent beach walk, wondering why plans that seemed so straight forward in my mind could evolve into something much more convoluted than anticipated. It was at this point that I noticed this piece of driftwood and snapped a photo. What I admired about it was its twists and turns, its sinuous grace. Somehow in its evolution, as it reached toward the sun, it shifted, bent, leaned and emerged into its own, lovely form.

I welcomed this teacher. That piece of driftwood embodies grace to me. It reminded me that beauty emerges when we let the elements shape us. In my attempts to predict and control my life's journey, I usually map out my plans in straight lines and clear steps. Of course, "reality" gets in the way, and things never turn out quite the way I had planned. I want to make a shift, and it is a big one. I want to let the world shape me as much (or more) than I attempt to shape it. Of course, it always has been shaping me, but I have harbored the illusion that I was driving the bus, and maybe I would be better off as a passenger.

I believe, when we are awake and present in the moment, staying curious and open, that we can flow into truly magical places of service, grace and love. When we cling too tightly to our maps, to the straight path we have planned for ourselves, we walk along with blinders on, failing to see the gifts that are offered. I am smiling, thinking of one of my dogs. When we hike the trails near our home, she will continually pull me onto side paths and off the main trail. I hear myself saying "But we're not going that way!" and remember my own resistance to taking a road less travelled. Those deer trails and foot paths may not always get me to my destination faster and more directly, but they yield discoveries: a view hidden from the main trail or a wildflower wedged between rocks.

Driftwood on the beach, a hummingbird in the blossoms, the call and response of two ravens across the meadow . . . everything teaches. If only we can open, let go of our internal world of control, and be with what is, with its sharp need to change us and rearrange us. Letting it all in . . .