Today, however, I insisted. And it felt like release.
As I was circling back toward my car, I was running on a residential road that runs alongside the campus where I work. Through the space between academic buildings I could just catch glimpses of the setting sun playing on the snow covered quad and I thought to myself "Something beautiful is happening over there and I am missing it."
And then a voice returned, "No. If it were meant for you, your path would have gone that way."
Sweet mercy, what a metaphor. Because with that first statement a thousand "what ifs" ran through my head as quickly as my feet traversed the pavement. But within the response stood the truth.
There will be beautiful things; many of which I will come in close contact. It doesn't mean that they were meant for me. My path is my path and it is the only one with which I need concern myself. And if I am lucky, I may just stumble across some beautiful things along the way.