If we have been lucky enough, if we have been willing enough to face the uncertainty, it is our own singular path, unplotted by our anxious younger selves, untrodden by anyone else.

Uncertainty is the price of beauty, and integrity the only compass for the territory of uncertainty that constitutes the landmass of any given life.Īnd so the best we can do is walk step by next intuitively right step until one day, pausing to catch our breath, we turn around and gasp at a path. And this is why each and every one of them, even the most seemingly actualized, trembles with a staggering degree of doubt and confusion. This is why there are infinitely many kinds of beautiful lives. We long to be given the next step and the route to the horizon, allaying our anxiety with the illusion of a destination somewhere beyond the vista of our present life.īut the hardest reality to bear is that death is the only horizon, with numberless ways to get there - none replicable, all uncertain in their route, all only certain to arrive. In recent seasons of being, I have had occasion to reflect on the utterly improbable trajectory of my life, plotted not by planning but by living.

Rachel from the price is right