I have come to accept the feeling of not knowing where I am going. And I have trained myself to love it. Because it is only when we are suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight, that we force our wings to unravel and alas begin our flight. And as we fly, we still may not know where we are going to. But the miracle is in the unfolding of the wings. You may not know where you're going, but you know that so long as you spread your wings, the winds will carry you.
I believe in going with the flow. I don't believe in fighting against the flow. You ride on your river and you go with the tides and the flow. But it has to be your river, not someone else's. Everyone has their own river, and you don't need to swim,float,sail on their's, but you need to be in your own river and you need to go with it. And I don't believe in fighting the wind. You go and you fly with your wind. Let everyone else catch their own gusts of wind and let them fly with their own gusts of wind, and you go and you fly with yours.
The winds of change blow over the sea of hope as we ride the heavens high above. Forever searching for the isle of dreams, forever looking, forever scanning the horizon. But for most of us, it's in vain it would seem, for the isle of hope, is nowhere to be seen. But for some, a glimpse is enough, to stretch out one's hand, and snatch at its thread. It's all it takes, it's all you need, for if you do it, you're sure to succeed.