The Centipede

I watched a centipede make its way along the bannister at the end of the boardwalk. It would inch along for a few seconds, stick its head up to look around, and then continue on. It almost seemed as if it were looking for something, but for what I wasn’t sure. 

Are we any different from that centipede? Try as we might, we’re unable to see what’s ahead of us or maybe not even sure what we’re looking for. We can only move forward in faith that our path will continue to unfold. 

I watched the centipede fall from the banister and thought about picking it up to return it to its place, but I stopped myself. Isn’t that how we all get to where we need to be? By pursuing a path, getting redirected by failure or the unexpected, and discovering a new and often better path as a result. 

I sat there, staring at the centipede curled up on the ground, wondering if it could have died from its fall. A few seconds later, it uncurled, stretched its head up to look around, and dutifully continued on its way. It was a humbling reminder of what’s available to all of us – the choice to keep inching along undeterred, no matter how many times the path changes up ahead.