The only step you are ever going to take, is your next step. And you better make it worth taking it. Over and over again.
My destination is always here, is always what this is.
It is always obscure and it is always for real at the same time.
Me imagining a different reality is just me acknowledging that there lies a mystery beneath whatever I am experiencing right now.
I take the blank pages for granted, as an invitation to make suppositions that reveal more about myself and my current personal desires than they do about real indications of future realities.
These blank pages are deceiving in itself. They suggest something static, blank spots, open spaces waiting to be explored.
In reality we are in a mass also known as a mess of constant movements. There is no open space. There are only ways we go and ways we don’t go, since they are gone by others. One has to go one’s own way. One’s own way will go like that anyway.
So what is there but to pay attention to what is happening? What is there but to be here and to see what is happening, to experience what we are part of? What is there but to see the next step and make a good guess?
Perhaps be rewarded with a hint of wisdom?
Be. Happy? Who knows…