All of life is a path. When we begin, we may not even realize the path we are on, or that there is a path at all. What we expect will be a straight line to a destination is rarely without curves or setbacks. Our pace takes on different speeds; depending on our mood, we traverse quickly, slowly, and sometimes not at all. Still points or even moments of backtracking greet us along the way.

Time moves fast and slow, sometimes against our own feet or our own will. What we think will be easy is more difficult, and what we think will be difficult goes off without a hitch. Tragedy strikes. We feel paralyzed, and like we won't be able to go on.

All of a sudden, we are celebrating, and we wonder at how we got here. Despite the aches and injuries of life, we reach a calm point, a place where all seems right instead of unfair or random. Small successes propel us forward, despite wanting to turn back. There have been enough synchronicities and spiritual alignments that remind our heart the reasons we are here.

There is a second chance, maybe infinite chances, even when we feel all has been lost or dismantled.

I imagine life as continual waves - the tightness and clawing when we are knocked down, and the relieving gasp of breath when we finally emerge.

My aunt is 72 and will be hiking the Tour du Mont Blanc in France, Switzerland, and Italy this September. The quest requires training and proper supplies, a building up and working towards before just diving in. I marvel at her capacity to always move forward. Her husband died unexpectedly several years ago, and life for my aunt seemed to stop. I know the feeling of looking forward and seeing nothing in sight. I know the fear of having a mapped-out route for your future, and then having the path seemingly washed away. No explanation. No direction on where to go from here.

After the initial shock, disbelief, and grieving, we have a choice.

We can stay still, always wishing upon the path that was, but never will be.

Or, we can move forward, and wonder what the next summit will bring.

When I got divorced I was young, I am still young. I imagine losing a partner at a much later age would make it tempting to remain still. To give up. To shrug my shoulders and say, "Well, it's been a good life."

My aunt reminds me there is always overcoming. There is always a path forward, even if it wasn't the path we had planned. Always in the overcoming, there is a BEcoming. A coming into a new Self, if we are brave enough to keep moving forward. If we drop the excuses of age and circumstance, if we simply keep going, more will always be offered to us.

I marvel at people who choose not to give up. Who let go of whatever they hoped their life would look like and continue to take steps, because life is worth it. And we never know what's waiting for us at the next summit.