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.

Of Time and the River

“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.” ~ Norman Maclean

A comment in a book I was reading yesterday made me think about rivers, about their origins, their flow and destinations. A river’s origin or source may be a spring, or a set of creeks which serve as tributaries into a channel which flows along toward a broader body of water such as great lake, gulf or ocean.

Here in Minnesota we have the headwaters of the Mississippi, the starting point of the world’s third longest river. Twenty-five years ago I used to run along this same river bank three mornings a week when I lived for a time in Bloomington. Over a century ago young Sam Clemens swam in this same river further south, traveling much of its length from Missouri to the Mississippi Delta.

And near two centuries ago the elderly Daniel Boone, who had moved most of his family to Missouri from Kentucky in order to escape the encroachments on his freedom by our U.S. legal system, decided to explore the Mississippi northward with a Negro via canoe. A brutal snowstorm from the north bore down upon them as they neared the headwaters here in Minnesota and for three days it appeared that he was about to die as they lay beneath the canoe striving to survive. He recited to his dark skinned companion his last will and testament, but the storm broke and he found himself recovering. They got back into the canoe returned to Missouri where he lived out the rest of his years.

Rivers have been part of human history for ages, serving as transportation routes, power generators, geographic barriers, political boundaries, and more. Rivers have also served as a source of inspiration for poets, writers, artists and philosophers.

An interesting feature of the Mississippi is that not far from its source there is an unusual triple watershed. Watersheds are high points where rain drainage diverges in different directions or to separate destinies. In the Colorado Rockies, for example, there is a divide where water falling to the West flows to the Pacific Ocean, and to the East it flows to the mighty Mississippi and ultimately to the Gulf of Mexico. But here, not far from where I am sitting, there is a triple point which Native Americans recognized long before the white man came, and held council meetings there.

Rain that falls in this small area can have one of three outcomes once it joins other creeks, streams and tributaries. It can flow into Lake Superior and into the St. Lawrence Seaway system, or it can flow into the headwaters of the Mississippi, or it can drain northward to the Arctic Ocean… a truly diverse set of destinies.

Our minds are like rivers sometimes. Ideas fall like rain into our mental landscape. Some drops evaporate quickly and are gone. Others merge with existing streams and make them more powerful as they cut deeper channels through the interior of our souls. Occasionally, due to weather patterns chiefly, there are floods which overflow their banks and spill across the landscape, sometimes tearing down trees and buildings and causing great upheavals.

The river’s origins are simple and small, bearing no resemblance to the mile wide expanse downstream.

When the river is flowing hard and fast, it energizes us. When the river becomes wide, flowing lazily through time and space, it relaxes us. So too, our minds and mental states.

The flowing river is a theme upon which many minds have meditated. Twain, Hesse, Annie Dillard, Norman Maclean have all included reflections on rivers. Here is the culmination of Hesse’s Siddhartha as the great wise man contemplates the meaning of his life while watching, and listening to, the river.

Siddhartha tried to listen better. The picture of his father, his own picture, and the picture of his son all flowed into each other. Kamala's picture also appeared and flowed on, and the picture of Govinda and others emerged and passed on. They all became part of the river. It was the goal of all of them, yearning, desiring, suffering; and the river's voice was full of longing, full of smarting woe, full of insatiable desire. The river flowed on towards its goal. Siddhartha saw the river hasten, made up of himself and his relatives and all the people he had ever seen. All the waves and water hastened, suffering, towards goals, many goals, to the waterfall, to the sea, to the current, to the ocean and all goals were reaced and each one was succeeded by another. The water changed to vapor and rose, became rain and came down again, became spring, brook and river, changed anew, flowed anew. But the yearning voice had altered. It still echoed sorrowfully, searcingly, but other voices accompanied it, voices of pleasure and sorrow, good and evil voices, laughing and lamenting voices, hundreds of voices, thousands of voices.

Siddhartha listened. He was now listening intently, completely absorbed, quite empty, taking in everything... He could no longer distinguish the different voices – the merry voice from the weeping voice, the childish voice from the manly voice. They all belonged to each other: the lament of those who yearn, the laughter of the wise, the cry of indignation and the groan of the dying. They were all interwoven and interlocked, entwined in a thousand ways. And all the voices, all the goals, all the yearnings, all the sorrows, all the pleasures, all the good and evil, all of them together was the world. All of them together was the stream of events, the music of life.