I heard tell once that there are boats that stay their course no matter the adverse weather. Tried and true these boats, perhaps like people, stick to their straight and narrow path and are not affected by whims of nature or steersmen. They usually achieve their goals, but in their dogged determination, is it possible they miss the beauty and rare opportunity of following the siren's call? I imagine these tankers as burdened with the constant stress to hold fast to the preordained method with their obstinate rigidity.

I cannot live in such a manner. I am one who flits by nature and, through the years of joy this tactic has brought me, by nurture. I am more like the sail boat with many sails of various sizes designed specifically to catch the tiny zephyrs that could blow me to never-conceived-of adventures. Some adventures are exotic, some treacherous to spirit and mind, some dull, some surreal out-of-body experiences that shift paradigms of thought, others so mundane it requires concentration and faith to find the ever-present miraculous in the detail.

There is so much to experience on this planet I honestly believe to remain impassive to temptation just because of allegiance to a predetermined plan to be an absolute travesty and waste of breath.

Ah, but flitting is not always understood. Some look askance or down their noses at the flitting nature. "Oh, look, something shiny," they say with snide superiority.

My response is filled with childlike hope and giddy anticipation, "Oh yeah? Where?" I wonder what has shown up to delight my fancy. What unexpected gift has revealed itself from the quiet, dark void of mystery?

My skin prickles, each nerve vibrant when my attention flits from a field of tiny, white, star-shaped flowers visited by a bevy of cobalt blue butterflies, to the view of a craggy mountain top tipped with snow, to the desire to dip my toes in the sparkling, crisp, bubbling stream. Can't you feel the butterfly's kiss? Aren't you amazed by the strength and solitude of the mountain or the hush of snow? Can you hear the water gurgle as it pushes the slick and wet pebbles over one another?

Flitting can sometimes be mistaken for being unstable or capricious, without conscious intention. This is simply not so. Those who flit are not manipulated by the wind; we ride the wind of our own volition. We choose the zephyrs and breezes that look like they will bring us joy or promise exploration of unfamiliar frontiers. We seek adventure when we flit. We seek experience, simply for the sake of experience itself. Flitting keeps one light-hearted at the same time drinking up all the possible sensations in a given moment. Our eyes remain wide open, every sense alert, taking in the pieces as well as the whole picture. There are no blinders here, but a deep appreciation for all that is and could ever be.

Like the water flowing down the stream carries pebbles and sticks along with it, we gather all the elements and facets of our interests and move in the direction of our goals. We reach our destination, just as the tanker, perhaps a few moments later, but much richer because of the delights we discovered and experienced along the way.

Flitting is an act of faith in the omnipresence of joy itself. It is fueled by spontaneity and flexibility - the sweet nectar of a juicy life where anything is possible. Flitting grants jubilant enthusiasm to any adventure or conversation, whether mundane or mystical. Sheer delight is the constantly transforming and evolving destiny of flitting and one I seek and intend to manifest every day.

So my friends, I say flit. Find the nectar you find sweetest, discover the euphoria in each the moment, and then flit to the next with that wide-eyed eagerness for life's next adventure...