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The path - What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life?
The world would split open. - Muriel Rukseyer
The path
I start to draw the directions. A left here, a right there. Go a little ways, then the route will twist and turn for a mile or two. The directions come from deep within, without my having to think through them. I can traverse this land on autopilot; the route is well worn and familiar. It'll get you there, this is the path I take.

Yet even as I caution you about the rough terrain with its windy roads, I can't help but suspect there's got to be something more direct. I first forged this path over a decade ago, and both the road and its navigator have changed.

But this is the path I took... I got me here. . I feel a kinship with this path and find solace in its familiarity. I trust the trail I forged, and find some pride as its discoverer. But if I once blazed this trail, why do I shun the exploration of alternative routes? Such a search does not mean my initial path is wrong. It brought me where I needed to go, as best as I could at the time. But this is no longer that time.

With every footstep, I feel myself moving toward the end of the journey. Yet it is now, with my destination in sight that I feel the freedom - and curiosity - to explore other routes, without discounting those I've come to know and trust. Is it I because I am confident I can't stray too far, or because I have come to realize that adventure is paramount to arrival?

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