To Being Adventurers

I feel like an adventurer. Maybe being in New York for a week changed my inner clockwork and made me dance to a rhythm with each new day. A transformed ticking where I hear, see, and smell, brighter, deeper and richer. And this week in New York has felt like months. Months of adventure and seeking out new and exciting, simple yet delightful, wide awake and exhausted, contrasting details that make life so alive--with a sleep hard way of being, a taste every bite way of eating, and a walk-like-your-life-and-catching-the-subway-depends-on-it type of travel. The days feel like a collection of a million moments. Like a net being held up, chasing the wind and filling up with monarchs as they head south. If my life where to sit in an old photo booth, and flash!, moments had and chances missed would fill the rectangles staring back with the question of "what do you see?", would I like it, would I like what I see? Would I feel like my life, a mere twenty eight years of living, was really like centuries or a full net of moments deliberately caught and saved? Would the photo strip in my hands reflect purposeful living, adventuring through the simple, and taking delight in the often unnoticed? I hope so. I want that for myself. Because really, these moments, this life, these things we consume ourselves with--they could be gone at any time. Like me, leaving New York, we could be on a plane at any moment and how we would hate to say "I wish I had done more, seen more, paid more attention--lived better." So here is to being an adventurer. An adventurer of the simple and quiet to an explorer of the big and unknown.