Short blog this week folks. For my 42nd birthday I am hopping on the motorcycle with my lady and heading to Asheville, NC to ride the scenic Blue Ridge Mountains…
I don’t want to die unfulfilled. This notion has haunted me since I was conscious. I didn’t have the words back then, when I was young, small and insecure, but I had the sensation and the sense. I don’t want to get to the end having lived someone else’s life. It burns like a fuse to fulfill what aches in my soul. Beyond the thickets and hardships and distractions there is a reservoir of light to dive into on a hot day after an arduous and relentless hike. Yet for me it can only be found by fulfilling a purpose and that purpose is where I find God.
This is the reason I have quit jobs, often did poorly in school, didn’t marry, didn’t compromise, because I could not, would not, take my soul’s eye, mind’s eye, and heart, off of the path.
I was in the garage yesterday and stumbled upon old pictures of myself as a boy, maybe three or four years old. There was one of me standing in our side yard next to the short row of pine trees. I had a thick head of hair and a bowl haircut while sporting my brown jacket that displayed colorful geometric shapes. It was one of my favs. The jacket that is, not the bowl haircut. But I had the burden in those anguished brown eyes, that same weight I have sitting here and writing this. And it is only with action and fulfillment do I free myself.
