By knowing the latitude and longitude of every centimeter on our planet, we must imagine new ways those places intersect.
On the road I am reminded of what matters to me, and I am often surprised with what I rediscover.
Every day, I’m aware that the number of times I might do what I’m setting out to do is like evaluating a helium balloon on the end of a string. It will float on the air, tied to a wrist, and by nighttime bob listlessly on the floor. Nothing lasts forever.
The horizon line marks those places with an edge beyond which you cannot see, and there are more places you cannot see from where you're sitting right now than there are places you can see.
There’s a reason so much art has to do with love and sex and desire in its many forms. Lust empowers us to short circuit intellect so we can access other forces.
You’re not going anywhere if your road simply goes around the same old block again and again. You don’t have to court bad days; they’ll find you anyway. But you can make great, good efforts at good days, and those efforts count. Stack the deck: you can help insure that your journey will add to your overall experience in a way that matters.
Things are happening simultaneously, small and large all the time, for everyone. The moment you remember that simple thought is the moment you notice the details happening right in front of you, wherever you happen to be.
I recently spent some time with a young, passionate emergency care nurse about to ship out with Médecins Sans Frontières, aka Doctors without Borders. She’s headed to Monrovia, Liberia for a six to eight week deployment on the front lines of the Ebola outbreak. Not yet thirty, she’s already an MSF veteran in parts of the world that most Americans can hardly find on a map, to say nothing of being able to imagine themselves working there for a single day. To meet her you’d never know.
Sound makes sights real. A movie with the sound turned off is not only inert, but slightly disturbing. Something substantial feels out of balance, and mere intellectual understanding of the problem does not satisfy our need to fix the context. The barest whisper of wind solidifies the clear air of Autumn, moving crispy, auburn leaves through space and into our senses. Autumn colors tell us what’s happening; Autumn sounds saturate our senses.
None of us can carry all of our life experiences with us everyday, per se, but that doesn’t mean we can’t create ways to keep track of them. Just like runners arrive at each race through an accumulation of training and experience that leads up to the starting line, each of our lives can only be possible by an accumulation of experiences we choose to regard as parts of a much larger whole. When we break apart the moments of our lives into narrow, compartmentalized good moments and bad moments, we reduce ourselves to little more than highlight reels.