English: Traffic congestion along Highway 401

While riding in the car, my oldest son likes to ask “Is this the highway?” or “Are we on the highway?”  He is infatuated with just even the concept of being on the highway.  I have never really understood why, but I was thinking tonight that I am obsessed with the same thing.  “Am I on the path?”  “Am I getting there as quickly as possible?”   The highway represents flow.  It is fast and it is amazing.  Cars moving at incredible speed performing a ballet of movement.  When you are on a surface road, it is slower, there are stoplights.  Things don’t always seem as magical.

The thing that I have to keep in mind is that even though the flow of traffic may be slow or even come to a stop, I am still on my way.  I am still progressing.  The traffic is out of my control and I should not try to control it.  I should accept the flow as it is, a rhythmic dance at any speed.  It is exciting when it is fast, but it can be equally exciting when it is slow.

Coming home, right before getting on the interstate, I saw a doe and fawn leap across the road.  I was thankful I was paying attention.

 

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