I’ve never believed in fate. We live the life that we do based on our experiences within our environment. The choices we make, right or wrong, guide us through life, connecting our past with our present, pointing us in the direction of our future, but that’s where it ends. Our future isn’t set. It’s an unknown. There are no leading lines showing us where to go next. We stand, looking out toward the abyss, filtering millions of decisions, hoping that the lessons we learned from our friends and family were close enough to the truth. It’s exciting to think about all the possibilities that lie ahead.
Occasionally when things get really stressful, the only thing I want more than anything is to get away and unplug. No phone, no computer, no internet. At night, I imagine the sound of the ocean moving before me, stars trailing out across the evening sky, and I’m the only person around for hundreds of miles. Even if I wasn’t, it’s the feeling that is nice. I have huge amounts of respect for those people that set out on this course, and am constantly looking for an out.
On a past adventure to Iceland, I saw this tiny old home while driving around. Walking up, I peered through windows and poked my head inside. The smell of decay was thick. It’s current inhabitants scurried about, while it’s past inhabitants were nothing more than a memory. That night, I slept in the remnants of an old stone foundation farther up the road. The wind was howling, and it was a nice respite from the incessant gale. After donning my earplugs and rolling onto my back, I stared up into the abyss and sank deeper into the infinite that is the mind.