Our Personal Watersheds: Navigating the Paths to Our Destinies

All roads lead to... No, it's not that simple. The roads diverge and do not have identical ends. Think in terms of watersheds. Think in terms of destinies.

Is life a singular road leading to a predetermined destination? Or, as experience seems to suggest, is it a vast landscape of forking paths, each shaped by the choices we make?

Just as watersheds guide stream to rivers that pour into different seas, in the same way our decisions carve the courses of our destinies. Each choice, no matter how small, ripples outward, shaping who we become and where we end up. Yet, too often, we wander through life as if these paths are chosen for us. Carried by currents we drift along the easiest routes, avoiding the steep climbs and turbulent waters. The benefit of this aimless approach is we can avoid having to assume responsibility for what happens to us. 

But the truth is profound and empowering: we have the power to choose. Our destinies are not fixed; they are forged.

Fate versus free choice isn't just an issue that philosophers have wrestled with. I recently learned this was a theme in Tchaikovsky's fifth and sixth symphonies, and in Beethoven's work as well. It's something each os us must come to grips with.

The Illusion of Powerlessness

For many, life is lived under the illusion that we have no control. We fall into routines, follow societal expectations, or surrender to the momentum of circumstance, convincing ourselves that the path of least resistance is the only one available. It’s comfortable to believe we’re merely passengers on a railroad, carried along by forces beyond our control—family obligations, financial pressures, or the weight of habit. This mindset may absolve us of responsibility but it also robs us of agency. Deep down, we know the truth: choices abound, but they often come with a cost.

The things we want most—whether a fulfilling career, meaningful relationships, personal growth, or a legacy that outlives us—require effort, sacrifice, and sometimes pain. Most of us shy away from that reality. Who relishes the grind? Who eagerly embraces risk? Our natural inclination is to seek ease, to glide down the smoothest stream rather than paddle against the current. But ease rarely leads to greatness. The paths that demand the least from us often deliver the least in return.

The greatest achievements in life—those that stir our souls and leave a mark on the world—are born of risk and sacrifice. Consider the artist who pours years into mastering his or her craft, the entrepreneur who stakes everything on a vision, or the parent who sacrifices personal ambitions to launch their children on a successful trajectory. These pursuits are not easy, and that’s precisely why they matter. When we invest ourselves fully, when we pay a price for what we seek, the results carry weight. An achievement handed to us without effort feels hollow, like a trophy won by chance rather than merit. 

Sacrifice imbues our goals with meaning. It’s the late nights spent studying that make a degree feel earned. The achievements I'm most proud of feel gratifying because I know the work involved in pursuing them.

Without cost, there is little value; without struggle, there is no triumph. Yet, too often, we hesitate at the crossroads, unwilling to pay the toll. We let fear of failure, discomfort, or uncertainty steer us toward safer, less demanding paths. In doing so, we risk betraying the deeper longings of our hearts.

The Drift of Indecision

When we fail to choose deliberately, we don’t simply stand still—we drift. Life, like a river, keeps moving, and indecision is itself a choice, one that often leads to destinations we never intended. We ramble through the years chasing fleeting distractions or settling for what’s “good enough,” only to wake up one day wondering how we strayed so far from our dreams. Regret is not just about missed opportunities; it’s about the quiet betrayal of our own potential.

This drift is seductive because it feels safe. It asks little of us. It spares us the anxiety of risk or the sting of failure. But it also dulls our lives, leaving us with a vague sense of emptiness. The deepest longings of our hearts—those audacious dreams of creating, connecting, or achieving something extraordinary—require us to step out of the current and choose a different path. They demand that we embrace discomfort, confront uncertainty, and trust in our capacity to endure.

The Power to Choose

The beauty of life’s watershed moments is that we are not powerless. We have the power to choose, to shape our paths, to pursue destinies that align with our truest selves. This power is both a gift and a responsibility. It requires us to be intentional, to reflect on what we value most, and to summon the courage to act. Every choice, from the mundane to the monumental, is a brushstroke on the canvas of our lives.

To choose well, we must first know ourselves. What stirs your heart? What dream keeps you awake at night? What would you pursue if fear were not a factor? These questions are not mere musings; they are compasses for navigating life’s diverging paths. Once we identify our deepest desires, we must weigh the costs and decide what we’re willing to sacrifice. Time, comfort, security—these are the currencies of ambition. The question is not whether you can avoid paying but whether the goal is worth the price.

Dreaming Big

Young people should have dreams, the bolder the better. Envision a life that stretches beyond the ordinary, that reaches for the stars. But dreaming alone is not enough. A dream without action is just a wish, fleeting and insubstantial. To turn dreams into destinies, we must pair them with resolve. We must choose the harder path, the one that demands growth, grit, and perseverance. We must be willing to stumble, to fail, and to rise again.  

Think of life’s choices as watersheds, each one directing the flow of your story. Some paths lead to quiet, contented lives; others to bold, transformative ones. Neither is inherently better, but only you can decide which aligns with your soul’s calling. The tragedy is not in choosing a modest path but in never choosing at all, in letting the current carry you to a destination you didn’t intend.

I myself believed I that becoming a writer was a calling. When you feel something is a calling, you feel obligated to do it well, to excel. My first article generated feedback (letters) from three continents from people whose lives were touched. I recognized from this experience the power of the written word.  

Embracing the Journey

As you stand at the crossroads of your life, remember this: the roads diverge, and their ends are not the same. All roads don't lead to Rome. Each choice shapes your destiny, and while the journey may be daunting, it is yours to chart. Embrace the power you hold. Dare to dream big, to risk greatly, to sacrifice willingly. The deepest longings of your heart are not frivolous—they are the map to your truest self.

So, choose boldly. Pay the price. Paddle against the current if it leads to the sea you seek. The watersheds of life are yours to navigate, and the destinies you reach will reflect the paths you dared to take.

Almost Wordless Wednesday: DeWitt-Seitz Marketplace

May 2 & 3 DeWitt-Seitz Marketplace is celebrating 40 years

since they opened their stores in Canal Park.

Click HERE for more info about their event.

 

Night Drive: Penetrating Heartfelt Tribute

The first time I noticed this song, really noticed it, was last year on a local Saturday evening radio program called Folk Migrations. From the opening notes it was haunting. After a long intro the vocals finally emerged, melancholic and evocative.  

How bright the stars
How dark the night
How long have I been sleeping?
Sleep overtook me on my westward flight
Held me in its keeping
I had a dream; it seemed so real
Its passing left me shaking
I saw you're here behind the wheel
On this very road I'm taking

Hurtling westward through the prairie night
Under the spell of motion
Your eyes were clear and bright in the dashboard light
Dreaming of the western ocean
The dusty towns left far behind
Mountains drawing ever nearer
Your face was then as it was tonight
Ever young
Ever clearer

Based on the mood and the lyrics, I assumed I was listening to a breakup song. Clearly the there was heartbreak in the air. The singer/narrator had been shattered. 

When I arrived home a little while later I found the song on YouTube so I could listen again. Strangely, I did not recognize the real story behind the song. I recognized the emotions, but there's an ambiguity here that gives it a far vaster reach. Though the song was deeply personal, it encapsulates universal themes of memory, loss, and the passage of time. 

While researching the origins of the song I discovered the source of its power. It was not about an ex-girlfriend. Rather, it was a tribute to his late brother, Stan Rogers, with whom he traveled across North America during their music career in the 1970s and early 1980s. 

In the lyrics, Garnet describes a dream where he’s driving through the prairie night, and there’s Stan, right beside him, as real as ever. You can feel the weight of that moment—the motion of the car, the dark night, the stars above, and the overwhelming sense of Stan’s presence, like he never left. It’s haunting, the way Garnet captures that longing, mixing the joy of those shared memories with the pain of knowing they’re gone. He talks about things they did together—watching the northern lights, sharing a bottle of wine—and you get this vivid picture of their life on the road, not just the places they went, but the emotional journey they shared.

I know this road

And its every curve

Where the hills commence their climbing

We rested here

If my memory serves

The northern lights were shining

You lit a smoke

We shared some wine

We watched the sky in wonder

Your laughter echoes after all this time

In that high and wild blue yonder

Stan Rogers was Garnet's older sibling, a Canadian folk musician of stature, a brother he looked up to. In 2022 a good friend from our Dylan circles died. What moved me most was the manner in which Phil's three younger brothers respected and honored him at his funeral. Clearly this shines through in Garnet's tribute. Not only had Stan been an inspiration as an older brother, but even in his death his behavior was heroic. Here's the account from Wikipedia.

Rogers died alongside 22 other passengers most likely of smoke inhalation on June 2, 1983, while travelling on Air Canada Flight 797 while returning from performing at the Kerrville FolkFestival. The plane was flying from Dallas to Toronto and Montreal  when a fire from an unknown ignition source within the vanity or toilet shroud of the aft washroom forced an emergency landing at the Cincinnati airport in northern Kentucky. There were initially no visible flames, and after attempts to extinguish the fire were unsuccessful, smoke filled the cabin. Upon landing, the plane's doors were opened, allowing the five crew and 18 of the 41 passengers to escape, but approximately 90 seconds into the evacuation the oxygen rushing in from outside caused a flash fire.   

Soon after his death, legends began to circulate about Rogers' final moments. Amber Frost claimed: Before most likely succumbing to smoke inhalation, he used his last moments to guide other passengers to safety with his booming voice. I’ve heard more than one Canuck proudly declare that for all Rogers’ odes to Canada, he was never more Canadian than in his final words: ‘Let me help you.'

I don't know why I write these lines

It's not like I could send you the letter

It's that I love your more after all this time

It's that I wish I'd shown you better

Years have slipped

Beneath my wheels

Dwindling in my rear view mirror

As time has passed

Your life has seemed less real

But these night drives bring you nearer

I know why he's written these lines. Garnet knows, too. It's all part of the grieving process, encapsulating memories, as well as regrets. The candor cuts deep when he says, "I love you more after all this time, I wish I'd shown you better." It's both beautiful and bittersweet.

So tonight I'll wish upon these stars

As they rise upward to guide me

That I'll see you here just as you are

Now, as then, beside me

Scares me how the years have flown

Like the leaves drift in September

They've lost sight of you as your legacy's grown

But this road and I

We remember

* * * 

Here's a link to the song: 

 

You can also check out this video of Stan Rogers.    

It's a Horatio Alger Story

I've never read a Horatio Alger story, but I've heard the expression all my life. The expression refers to a classic rags-to-riches narrative, where someone overcomes poverty, hardship, or adversity through hard work, determination, and moral virtue to achieve success. 

The author of this series of books was Horatio Alger Jr., a 19th-century American author who wrote over 100 popular novels, mostly for young boys, featuring protagonists who rise from humble beginnings to middle-class respectability. As you can see from the titles here, the stories tend to emphasize self-reliance, perseverance, and luck—like being in the right place at the right time or meeting a benefactor. The reason Alger is not included in lists of "Great American Authors" is that all his books followed the same formula. Though he never tired of producing them, sales tapered off as the stories grew stale and predictable. 

What's funny is how well-known the expression is, whereas I doubt that I have ever actually met anyone who has read a Horatio Alger story. The phrase is commonly used to describe real-life success stories that mirror the archetype. Nowadays some would say the idealism expressed in these stories is dated, as Alger’s tales reflect a simpler, more moralistic view of success that doesn’t always align with modern complexities or cynicism. (Again, I admit to not having read any of the stories and base what I do know on personal speculation and a lecture I heard several years back about American bestsellers.)

For what it's worth, if your interest is piqued by this brief intro, you can find some of the originals, pictured above, at Chester Creek Books & Antiques here in Duluth.

* * * 

Here are some quotes attributed to this 19th century author.

--Success does not mean the absence of failure; it means the attainment of ultimate objectives.

--To err is human, to forgive divine.

--So long as there is life, hope is never absent.

--There is nothing more powerful than honesty, and nothing more valuable than integrity.

--The surest way to achieve success is to act as if it was already within your grasp.

--There is no royal road to learning; it comes only through persevering effort, hard work, and constant self-improvement.

--Opportunities don't happen. You create them.

--The only way to do great work is to love what you do.

--Your destiny is not determined by your circumstances, but by your choices.

* * *

 

Is the Rise of Social Media Really a Reprise?

Last week I began reading Is the Internet Changing the Way We Think?, a collection of essays by various thinkers, assembled and edited by John Brockman. The subtitle is The Net's Impact on Our Minds and Future. The list of contributors is impressive and the topics explored quite vast.

This blog post was stimulated by June Cohen, director of media, TED Conference, TED Talks. As you might expect, Cohen introduces an idea I had never considered but which so thoroughly resonated with my own observations that it's a wonder I'd never considered it this way before.

When I read the text of June Cohen's TED Talk, it not only struck me as original but also seemed profoundly astute. The title above was taken from the title of her TED Talk: The Rise of Social Media Is Really a Reprise.

In the early days of the Web, when I worked at HotWired, I thought mainly about the new. We were of the future, those of us in that San Francisco loft-champions of new media, new tools, new thinking. But lately I've been thinking more about the old--about those aspects of human character and cognition that remain unchanged by time and technology. Over the past two decades, I've watched as the Internet changed the way we think and changed the way we live. But it hasn't changed us fundamentally. In fact, it may be returning us to the intensely social animals we evolved to be. (EdNote: emphases mine)

Every day, hundreds of millions of people use the Internet to blog, tweet, IM, and Facebook, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And it is. The tools are new, but the behaviors come naturally. Because the rise of social media is a reprise, a return to the natural order.

When you take the long view-when you look at the Internet on an evolutionary timeline-everything we consider "old media" is actually very new. Books and newspapers became common only in the last two hundred years, radio and film in the last hundred, TV in the last fifty. If all of human history were compressed into a single twenty-four-hour day, media as we now know them emerged in the last two minutes before midnight.

Before that, for the vast majority of human history, all media were social media. Media were what happened between people. Whether you think of the proverbial campfire, around which group rituals were performed and mythologies passed on, or of simple everyday interactions (teaching, gossiping, making music, making each other laugh), media were participatory. 

The point, she concludes, is that what we’re witnessing now isn’t a fresh phenomenon. It’s not a groundbreaking surge in human potential, nor the collapse of thoughtful discussion, but instead a return to a more typical historical state. For a short time in the twentieth century, "media" was seen as content crafted by professionals for passive consumption by the masses. Together, we’ve been moving away from that concept.  

Is this part of the reason I've generally found television so off-putting since my junior year in high school?

Humans are innate storytellers, she says, and media have long served as the connective tissue binding our communities. However, in the twentieth century, mass media became so overwhelmingly one-sided that they crowded out other forms of engagement. The allure of television was so captivating, immersive, and isolating that it eroded older, interactive traditions like storytelling, music creation, and even family meals. While TV built a global audience, it dismantled the sense of village life in the process.

  

Then came the Internet. As soon as this technology emerged, we instinctively started rebuilding the types of content and communities we’re naturally drawn to. Content creation no longer required a multi-million dollar studio. YouTube video was a snap to produce and upload for sharing. 

Our ancestors thrived in tight-knit tribes, staying close to friends and keeping their children even closer. They rapidly shared critical, sometimes life-saving information and gathered around fires for rituals and storytelling that strengthened their bonds. Today, we see these same instincts at play. The first thing many of us do with new communication tools is reconnect with our tribe—sending photo emails to our parents or watching our grandchildren via private photo and video catalogs as they grow from infants to maturity.

The upside to social media is that it's accessible and (mostly) easy as pie. 

* * * Cue the ominous background transition music * * *

While I was preparing my thoughts for this blog post a few days ago I noticed the following post from a Facebook friend reminding me that not all is hunky dory in social media paradise, especially in those places where it intersects with the real world we physically live in. I asked for permission to share her experience and observations.

I went to a Tate Lecture at McFarlin at SMU featuring journalist Soledad O'Brien. I really like her and watched her on NBC and CNN many years ago. Anyhow, I was sitting in the 3rd balcony because I bought a General Admission ticket. It was terrible up there. I had a nice seat picked out and a few seconds before it started, a lady with a high hairdo sat in front of me so I moved. But I didn't know the lady down from her and now to the side of me on the lower row was going to be playing a game on her phone the whole night. Well, I shut her down by asking her to dim her phone or turn it off thank you. She did. Then a man in front of her had his going but he was reading about Soledad and turned it off pretty quickly. Then another lady kept checking her phone the whole lecture, but at least she had dimmed hers and was just quickly checking. Then when the lecture was over but the question and answer session was beginning, many people got up and left. I guess that's ok but I think it is in poor taste. During the questions (the lights were up), that first lady had dimmed her phone but was scrolling FB. LOL. I enjoyed the lecture but will pay for a decent ticket on the floor next time. My take is that people are addicted to their phones and are rude. But we all knew that. I just am surprised time and time again for some reason. --Denise Costello*

*Denise Costello is a connoisseur of the arts and literature, and an authority in all things Hemingway  

The Art Dock Hosts “From Norway to the North Shore”-- Paintings by Sue Pavlatos.

Sea Smoke at the Aerial Lift Bridge--
Canal Park, by Sue Pavlatos

Last week I wrote about the DeWitt-Seitz Marketplace 40th Anniversary Celebration taking place the first weekend in May. Here's a follow-up announcement about events taking place at the Art Dock.

Sue Pavlatos will be the highlighted artist. Her show “From Norway to the North Shore” will open on Monday, April 29 featuring a collection of new paintings done with watercolor, pen, collage and acrylic paint. Sue is inspired by the moment and colors.

Pavlatos says “Painting is a way to capture the moment.  I enjoy connecting my life to the landscape before me. My paintings reflect nature‘s impact on my life.”  

Sue traveled to Norway in May 2024 to capture its beauty. The trip involved US cousins visiting Norwegian cousins and traveling the country. “I wanted to paint the beautiful vistas, and importantly, capture the moment with family," she said. "It was a pleasure to visit and revisit the farms, forest and rocky coast of Norway.  The connection to family on both sides of the ocean was poignant. Our four grandmothers, and their letters over the years, have connected us. Our love of nature's beauty keeps us connected. An added bonus was the similarity to our beautiful North Shore, and a show was born."  

From 1:00 to 3:00 on Saturday, May 3rd Sue will be giving a painting demonstration followed by an Artist Reception from 3:00 to 5:00 pm at the Art Dock. Her show will be on display through Sunday, May 18th.

There's a lot planned for DeWitt Seitz Marketplace 40th Anniversary Celebration. A ribbon cutting ceremony will take place May 2 at 5:00 pm. Throughout the day on May 3 the 10 retail shops and restaurants will present special demonstrations/events, food specials and tasting, bagful sale, music, store drawings, and a grand prize drawing worth $500.00.

The Art Dock is located on the first floor of the historic DeWitt-Seitz Marketplace, 

in Canal Park, Duluth, MN and is open daily.