There is a path that leads forward.
In a gravitational field, the shortest (as in fastest, as in easiest) path between two points is a curved line, not a straight one. But of course that’s all semantics, because “straight” and “curved” are a matter of perspective, and a matter of how you define your frame of reference.
The path that leads forward does not always appear to be the shortest path. It winds, curves, doubles back, disappears into thickets. If you think you see farther than the next few flagstones, you’re probably looking at another path, or an optical illusion.
If you get a bright idea that another route will be easier, faster, or more interesting, go ahead. Wander. It’s your right, and frequently necessary. The path forward will remain right where it was, waiting. There are other ways, but no other ways forward.
“Forward” is itself just a feeling, a comprehension, that you come to recognize. A sense of growth, of momentum. A sense of rightness. The more spontaneously you follow the feeling of “forward,” the more inevitable the path seems. Predestination and wild abandon are two sides of the same inscrutable coin.
And sometimes, when the path simply disappears, you learn to stop. Wait. Holding still can be part of moving forward. You become very still, like a jaguar with its eye on something delectable, and then the path appears again and you pounce and once more you’re off and running.