Much of my childhood summers were spent on a fishing boat named "Deliverance." In the wheel house, right in front of the steering wheel, was the compass. My parents still have that compass, but not the boat. And I've had a long fascination with compasses. Especially after I learned that the drawing that shows the cardinal directions is called a compass rose, or a wind rose. Lots of poetry in that....
As I finish up my last month of direction (the word/concept I've been exploring for the year), I'm thinking about direction in general. About how we choose paths. Or maybe we don't.