It didn’t know the magnitude of the canyon it was creating, that wasn’t the goal. Flowing, no matter the obstacles, was the goal.

“What kind of tracks am I leaving? Am I the bored cow dog, up to no good, chasing cats? Am I the cute little unidentifiable set of tracks barely leaving a trace? Or am I the herd of elk paving a highway and taking out fences wherever I go?”

Who gets to decide if you are qualified? How many opportunities were missed because you didn't feel qualified?