moving sideways

As I sat on the bus today I noticed that I was not moving forward. My body faced not the front of the bus, but the center of it. My view was not of the oncoming day. My view saw the city through the opposite window. My anticipation and remembrances lacked as all I could see was only what was passing by at that very moment. Moving forward or backwards was not an option to me. My seat was a bench that ran along the wall of the bus.

My sports and music are based on linear time. Songs and races have a start and a finish. Tempo is a common term within both worlds. When I get confused I can always return to the beat, to my breath, to the moment that I am in. I can focus directly on the note or footstep and let go of what I expect to happen next.The truth is that I never know what is going to happpen next. I can make assumptions based on experiance. Like a weather forcaster I can look at all of my data and try to predict what willl happen. But when a moment arrives it is unique and I have to adapt to it for what it is and not what I thought it would be. When my expectations are wrong I must adjust. This is where I have learned to move from side to side. I find other routes toward my goals by taking a very indirect path as if I were sailing into a wind. My tack is patient but determined. I can't alwaysfollow a path that may have worked for you. The only path that will work for me is the path that is available to me. Sometimes the best path available to me is in a direction I have never considered.

Often times forward is the obvious choice. Today as the brutal winds whipped across lake Erie and through the streets of Cleveland, backward worked well. As I rode my bus, I found that my path was sideways.