Elaborate maps will be thrust in our faces; fancy formulas will be drawn up, and golden compasses with stern needles will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that we have missed the correct paths. We will be told that the ways we see and feel the world, the way we hear her music, the way we dance with her colours, and the way we paint ourselves on the canvases of our experiences are all dead-wrong. It is in these times that many of us, fearful and seemingly alone, surrender to these regimes of correctness – in the hope that our acquiescence will reward us subsequently.
Some of us, however, know that the art of being alive has nothing to do with being correct or hitting the mark, and that being wrong is the last great privilege of our times. We recognize that new possibilities only emerge when we change coordinates. We see that in missing the mark we transcend the boundaries, and in transcending the boundaries, we recognize the beautiful fields beyond our fences, and in doing this, we see our former boundaries for what they are: our fear to explore our own shadows. So when you find yourself having more questions than answers, and when your doubts raise their voices, pay heed – they are emissaries of possibility, fairies of the once dreaded Yonder, dignitaries from realms of your awesome self you have never known. And when you do this, you will know that you are, and always have been, just alright.