A few years back, we had five couples over for dinner. One couple was new to the group, our friends from a neighboring town. A glass of wine and a few appetizers into the evening, a story about a friend of theirs came up – something about singing John Denver’s Take me home, country roads in a bar halfway around the world. Turns out, eight out of twelve counted this same man among their friends.

I was reminded of this again last night. In conversation with a couple who landed in Vermont via the upper Midwest, we found dear people and beloved places in common.

Many of us have played six degrees to Kevin Bacon (George Hosker, Kyra Sedgwick, Kevin Bacon), but I’m not sure with the larger implication in mind: that there are person-to-person Ley lines connecting us to each other – powerful, sacred, and rarely seen or appreciated. In this strange and interconnected reality, none of us are disconnected. Blind to the connections, perhaps, but never living in isolation.

Letting go of what doesn’t matter: The misconception that anyone on this planet is truly unrelated.

Loving what does: The adventure of finding those person-to-person Ley lines.

Minot Forest Path by Jared Fredrickson