I grew up in a town that was surrounded by fields of sugar cane. On Sunday afternoons my parents would go for a drive and I would sit in the backseat watching the world go by.
As I stared out the window I wondered why the long rows all seemed to head towards the same point in the distance. It was a horizon that seemed to move slower than the road on which we were traveling.
My parents did not know the word for what I was experiencing and it wasn't until many years later, in art class, that the concept of perspective was explained to me.
Recently I started making a very short list of things that I want to do. None of them are inspired by my impending demise, rather they are promises I made long ago before the exhaustion of living high fogged up my world up with the burden of just making it through the next day.
I know that I want to go sky diving, and ride on a Mardi Gras float. Whales, canyons, and cold mountain lakes are also additions to this plan. But when I sit back and think about the things in life that I want to see and experience, I come up short.
Is it because I have spent my whole life living every moment to the Nth level of intensity? When I left home to create a life, I couldn't see it was a universe all my own that was waiting for me.
It's impossible to surmount all of life's challenges without adopting the attitude that everyone is living in your world. It's one of my core beliefs that we create the reality we are experiencing around us.
That's why I've spent ample time, sometimes overly so, planning for things that others simply count as every day experience. Conversly, I am rarely bothered by why something happens. What to do next is always the question I enjoy asking.
But I've not spent my entire life listing possiblities and making outlines for my existence. I love nothing more than just jumping into everything around me, without abandon, just to see where I will go.
At night, under a starry sky, I like to stand and think that maybe Galileo was wrong.