GPS.

GPS

I use it a lot when I'm home, and it's great.

But I'm visiting my family in my hometown this week, and I know this place.

It's not that complicated- a couple of highways, streets that make sense, follow the sea. I know it like the back of my hand.

But I've gotten lost twice so far. Stubbornly refusing to use the GPS handily provided to me by my IPhone.

I can find my way- no sweat.

Left here- right there- through the orchards, past the farmlands.

What the fuck?

Nine miles astray and I succumb to the GPS.

A little deflated that I need assistance. And pissed that my intuition is wrong.

I don't need the GPS for the whole trip- just to get me back on track.

Now I'm golden.

Careening, once again, down the life's lesson highway- I realize that these two experiences are a metaphor for where I am right now.

I falsely believe that my intuition (solely) can guide me, and that I will find the right path.

But I'm wrong. And I'm a little deflated and pissed about it.

I need GPS to get me on the right path. *sigh*

Friends, family, good reads, my therapist, other guides, and sometimes complete strangers are here to help to guide me in the right direction.

And I need to stop fighting against it, and embrace the sometimes not so subtle nudges.

Left here- right there- through the orchards and past the farmlands- follow the sea.

To wherever it is this life I am intended to be.

Yes- as much as I hate to admit it-

I need the GPS.