Winter solstice is always a good time for reflection. Fall has bottomed out, we've turned the corner, and although winter lies ahead, there's the light of spring at the end of the tunnel. The older I get, the faster the seasons seem to fly, and while I hope to live to a hundred and ten, there's this sense of panic that any one of these next few seasons could be the last winter, the last spring. I'm not morbid, really. But things change, the world changes, people enter your life and leave it, you enter theirs and go away. There's no static place - the only thing constant is change. I'm tired of feeling like the rock in the river, gradually being worn away by the force of the stream. I'd rather be the river, raging one minute, meandering peacefully the next. I want to be the force of change, not the result of that change. I was called to do great things - if only I knew what those great things were.

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