My father always encouraged me to investigate maps and cultivate curiosity. He pushed me to make up my own mind, gain experience, and be inspired. I see life in snapshots – slight turns of the head and glimpses of romance, magic moments immortalized in the shoebox of my mind.
When I see the throbbing crowd I go the other direction. I find simple magic beautifully compelling and even more so when I open my eyes and heart to it. It’s in a child’s laugh or the celebration of a goal or a simple toast to friends. I’m charmed by unfamiliar spaces and that’s where my pulse quickens the most. I never intended to be an intrepid traveler or seafaring gypsy, only to push the scope of my own experience and existence. The things I have, and they are cool things, are mementos from adventures.
Yes, I have paid prices along the way. Cuts, broken bones, dislocations, stitches, chipped teeth, but I’m still standing. Most folks don’t want to get uncomfortable, but I do. I want to have blisters and scars, to do something worth remembering. If I die then I die, but my soul, my spirit will venture on and will glow brightly when my friends begin a story about me with something lyrical along the lines of “So Jason was on the roof when…” If I only scrap out a living at least it’s a living worth scraping.
It starts when I coax myself from comfortable routine. When I throw off concerns of the next television marathon and I seek for something bolder, more tangible, infinite and invariably I find myself closer to a new adventure. I make it a point to call it adventure because it comes with setback, with adversity and struggle. In that I find just how strong I really am.