Suddenly I recall a time in Summer 2010. I had pulled off a two-lane highway in Texas or Arizona, at a green field. Everything shimmered in late-afternoon light and a pack of horses caught my eye.

I think of it today as of two trajectories intertwined in those moments. They would separate again forever but each would remain. Trajectories: the people in our lives, our dreams and beliefs, as though sketch-like brush strokes of an as yet unfinished painting, we hope. At any rate they are inexact, perhaps incongruent for the moment. No grand design is evident, and certainly not to the outside observer. When it is (evident) we call it genius.

The thread that ultimately connects all our decisions, all the natural and imperceptible decay and growth — our life work will be tied together by this thread, the thread that will in retrospect make sense of it all. Maybe.

Chance encounters, spur-of-the-moment fancies, always something unexplained (though not unexplainable) — this lack of footing, of pattern and form; this spring of beauty and enchantment…

…makes me smile, want to get up, get out, get in, get on, get going — move.