As I walked across the mottled clay tiles of the Alvord Desert, I was struck by the impermanence of everything. Thousands of years ago, the ground beneath me was submerged in two hundred feet of water. Geological change caused the then-lake to burst forth from its confines and fill rivers to the south. Today, the 140 square mile "playa" is dry half the year. During the season of my visit - when most of the five inches of average annual precipitation falls on the desert - water crept across the landscape like a mirage from the northeast. I stood alongside it and watched as it bubbled closer and closer to my feet. Slowly. Surely. In the words of the Buddha, Everything vanishes.
I read something recently: whatever choice you make, it will be the right one because it’s the one that will move you forward in your journey. It will change where you’re at right now by creating new circumstances for your life, and those circumstances will be precisely the ones you’re supposed to occupy.