Recently while waiting to board a flight, I made eye contact with a woman standing nearby. She looked to be well into her seventh decade; she seemed quite content, healthy and able. Her pleasant face was lined like a road map; a telling story of her life, travels, successes and inevitably, even failures. Like the rings inside a tree trunk, her wrinkles reflected all the years that life has given her. Reminiscent of a delicate Irish lace veil, her lines offered proof her life has been a well-lived journey.

My favorite way to journey is via train in a seat by the window. Careening past a watercolor wash of cornfields, crossroads, and cities, I savor this mesmerizing mix of man-made and nature’s gifts. The side to side swaying motion and stubborn tug of the engine on an uphill climb remind me of the power inherent in tenacity. Day and night, locomotives deliver travelers to distant destinations, limited only by a pair of equidistant linear tracks.

Like the geographic border between states and the counties within them, personal boundaries are unseen but crucial. They separate ourselves from others, defining and protecting our personhood. A lack of this defined space can never be healthy, leading to diminished, exaggerated and enmeshed relationships. A path of destruction and dead-end unions are the results of living on parallel lines.

A two-way highway with no distinction between opposing lanes leads us to lose our sense of position. Without a center point, we cross from side to side, in a desperate attempt to stay our course. Seeking our stance in our personal space sets us on a trajectory to find the edges of our own universe and filter out the debris that bombards us daily. In the nighttime sky, we can be the bright trail of light cascading in a straight line to set a path for others.

Navigating through life is never easy. The task of finding our North Star likely sandpapers our soul. We want to understand how and when it all began and will end. Although we try to conquer our fear of the unknown, the mysteries of life are boundless. The harder we look, the more we find in this ageless quest. We look up at the stars wishing they will align and offer us all the answers we seek.

Even as young children we are encouraged to color within the confines of an illustration. Even into adulthood some people never see life in color, and their crayon box is empty. How very limiting. Brilliant hues and ragged edges add a sense of wonder that allows for critical thinking. I was never able to think within the box, and I always wanted crayons of every color. Ever since childhood I've refused to wait until I grow old to learn it's okay to color outside of the lines.

As we move forward in life, we often look back. We realize time has a habit of hammering on and we cannot halt it. While we are still able, we have a chance to make a difference for others. We are so much more than our possessions and our station in life. The sum of our lives is not merely the numbers signifying our birth and death on a tombstone. Our lives are the dash between them; all the days, weeks and years between the dates carved in stone.

Choose extraordinary versus ordinary. Pick the wildflowers by the roadside. Walk ON the cracks and stir up the moss. Don’t wait to find your groove; let yourself dance like never before. Turn the music up and tune the self-doubt out. Learn to love yourself for all that you are, because you weren’t meant to be anyone else. I’ll bet you never knew there’s plenty of wandering and wondering left for you. Find yourself. You might need to look in-between the lines...