Why don’t we live adventurously? I wonder about that, sometimes. There are all these things we say we want to do—dreams we want to live—places we want to go—and yet we are conditioned to do none of them. If it’s not usually done, it must be wrong. We begin assuming the word “unusual” means “impossible.”
Traveling—learning new skills—doing something exciting—we have so much life we want to live and yet never consider we could perhaps do it if we actually tried. Having a “bucket list” becomes a silly stage in life, rather than life itself; it becomes yet another to-do list, and not an entire perspective.
But what if we were to live adventurously—to live in a state of “yes”—of, “let’s make that happen”—and not “I wish.” What a life! To use a horse term, we’d be “freed up,” our motivation there, our hands and feet and lives in total willingness. It seems it would be a key in traveling light and in living without baggage—in living in surrender.
It is in that life that miracles would become real, because we would be looking for them.
Traveling—learning new skills—doing something exciting—we have so much life we want to live and yet never consider we could perhaps do it if we actually tried. Having a “bucket list” becomes a silly stage in life, rather than life itself; it becomes yet another to-do list, and not an entire perspective.
But what if we were to live adventurously—to live in a state of “yes”—of, “let’s make that happen”—and not “I wish.” What a life! To use a horse term, we’d be “freed up,” our motivation there, our hands and feet and lives in total willingness. It seems it would be a key in traveling light and in living without baggage—in living in surrender.
It is in that life that miracles would become real, because we would be looking for them.
