Anyone with any degree of nautical navigation experience could tell of a waypoint and its importance to charting ones course from one distinct point or position on a chart or a map to the next as ones journey progresses. Waypoints are points on a journey that provide for a detailed and set number of separate courses in order to reach ones inevitable destination. Interestingly enough, the same can be said for that ever onward path that life takes on whether one acknowledges this as in a single moment leading to greater moments of life or as a more global perspective of ones existence. The waypoints along the path are self-defined and set by each one of us and regardless of how much power one seems to hand over to any other person along the way, these “others” inevitably have no true control over one’s own course, except that decided upon by the individual. Always in the end this rests with the action of the individual choice.

With the exception of the occasional movement of a couch, the adjustment of a desk or the positioning of some other items within ones surroundings due to some innate desire for a feeling of order, everyone has that eventual desire for some change in their life. Everyone reaches those points where they feel that the details of life have become hum-drum, ho-hum or what have you. Plainly put, everything, from the material possessions that surround everyone down to the very fabric of the tapestry that colors ones inner makeup, they all reach that repetitive life’s plateau when they appear rather the same, not in progression any longer and rather as gathering dust instead of lighting off the fires of originality that serves to make each day a little bit more exciting.

I personally used to have the habit of; well alright I still do, of changing a room a bit at the turning point of every season to provide me with some sense of renewal in my surroundings. One of the advantages of living in a distinctively four season climate is that we get to relish the best and the not-so-best in everything that comes our way weather wise. We relish in the beauty and the chills of the snowy splendors of wintertime. We continually get amazed and renewed by the advent of another spring time with the new life of each bud on every tree and every flowering shoot that raises itself towards a much higher sitting sun. We languish in the lethargy of the heat of the summertime and my absolute favorite; we pull out the sweaters and the scarves for the coming new chilly nights, reduced daylight hours and the vast beauty of yet another autumn. These changes alone signal that life and the world itself moves along in some cyclic orderly fashion. So what of ones inner fashionable self if I can use that term?