I am not a seeker. I always thought I was. I thought that was the path I needed to pursue to become complete. I know it sounds corny, but I really can’t think of a better way to describe my pursuit. So I sought and searched, but as with anything that is not natural for me to do, I could never maintain it. I wandered off constantly. The journey always so much more exciting and wondrous during the detours, that I can never resist the little side trips. I’m finally seeing, however, that I have learned much more than I realized in my wanderings, through my wonderings.

I would set out after a thing. Still, somehow I never got out of it what I sought. Yoga, for instance . . . I did it for the stretching, the workout. It isn’t that great a workout. I suppose, if I applied myself, I could push to perfect my form and make it about the physical. Reality . . . my Down Dog is always going to suck and balancing poses are a long way off for me. It turns out to not be that important. That really isn’t what its about. It teaches you how to get in touch with your body and to be totally present in the moment. The physical is just a path to the spiritual. See, I didn’t get what I was searching for, but what I got . . . WOW!

I think I’m starting to get it. Karma, fate, providence . . . call it anything you will. Life provides. It seems I learn and grow at the oddest times, in the strangest ways, via the most unexpected vehicles. I’m sure that seeking is the path for many. For me, however . . .

Lost I may yet reach my goal
Without finding all that I seek
I may still be made whole

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