Wandering

1133 miles

I never realized how much the river begins to twist and turn as it approaches Memphis.

Rivers always have bends and corners. Everyone knows there’s no such thing as a perfectly straight river. But I wasn’t prepared for this.

I can’t follow the river here. No roads trace anything close to the meandering path.

I wonder if this happens to dreams at some point. I wonder if it’s inevitable that even the most focused dreamer loses a sense of where things are supposed to go.

That’s a bit how the ride feels right now. We’re moving, doing stuff, but there’s a sense that’s all we’re doing. There’s a sense of wandering.

Rivers wander as they age. Maybe that’s what happens with dreams.

I guess it would be nice to avoid this meandering stage. There’s that whole “shortest distance between two points” thing, but even as I write the words I remember that dreams aren’t about getting to the end.

It’s about the journey. It’s about traveling well. And if wandering is part of the journey, then we need to wander well.

Every time I begin my internal fussing about the inefficiency of this wandering stage I have to remind myself that the true joy is in pursuing the dream. We’ll be finished all too soon, left to wonder how it all happened so quickly.

I don’t want to wish away even a single day of this adventure. So we’ll twist and turn as best we can, following the dream, trusting that if we travel well the destination will arrive when it’s supposed to.

* * * * *

We were able to spend the weekend at the famous Peabody Hotel in Memphis, thanks to the generosity of our new friends Dudley and Michelle Boyd. Among many other wonderful amenities, The Peabody is known for The Peabody Ducks.

Hundreds of otherwise sane people gather twice each day to witness The March Of The Peabody Ducks. Here’s a video of blogger Chris Brogan serving as Honorary Duckmaster.