We dwell in time and space. Duration and occupancy in perpetual motion. How we travel is informed by our internal compass grounded in memories of triumphs and disillusionments. Focussing on our loses cultivates the art of failure, but shifting to moments of excellence, opens portals of invincibility calamitous for thieves of joy.
Although no one can enter our felt space, coauthoring our existence with worthy participants weaves belongingness without ownership nourishes with morsels of elegance. But why is the journey wrought with challenges to our nobleness? Although answers are lost in storms of change, the road within affords direction without rehearsals and worthiness impervious to doubt.
Such is the way of The Drift...
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