March 10, 2014

Oh Darling, Let’s Be Adventurers. ~ Emily Morris

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There’s a world that was meant for our eyes to see

To the ends of the earth, would you follow me

If you won’t, I must say my goodbyes to thee.”

~ Lord Huron

Today, I tapped my mechanical pencil against my faux wooden desk, assigning a rhythm to boredom.

Today, I waited an unfortunate eternity in the mail center line for a book. A textbook. It doesn’t get any bleaker than that.

Today, I tried to go unnoticed by the surly wind as I trudged back to my dorm. I was unsuccessful.

Right now I’m sitting in a pleather chair, coffee in hand, wondering whether I’d rather stream some Netflix or nap in honor of the rainy day—a nap it is.

This life is impeccably normal.

I go to class on a daily basis. Coffee and books are my salvation. Chinese takeout runs have become a regular excursion. I regretfully admit yoga pants are a staple item in my wardrobe.

But I’m positively content.

Because this is a chapter of my becoming, a standing stone in the direction I’m going. After all, greatness doesn’t come without a little anticipation. The next page is going to be exceptional and eccentric, unexpected and unconventional.

I want to live. To be free. To love and be loved. To stick my head out of a limo’s sunroof and flaunt my cheap wine to pedestrians. To dance in the rain, so to speak.

And that’s why I’ve created a bucket list.

It’s important to document the places you’ll go, the desires you keep secret; the ones buried so deep in your imaginings that they’re constantly fighting to be brought into the sunlight of reality. Now that these fantastical destinations have been plucked from my castles in the sky, from the mysterious ether of possibilities and put on paper, they’re real. They’re the future.

What part of the future, you ask? I don’t know, but that, in part, is the beauty of it.

Spontaneity is a gift.

Instead of getting frantic about the discrepancies of our futures, we should appreciate the gift of surprise, of anticipation. Ride the wild stallion that is being and spirit and life. Don’t saddle him up and constrain him by fiercely clenching the reins; let him wander from your carefully laid path. Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is let go.

So, one day I may be caught skinny dipping in clear-blue waters, triumphantly signing for ownership of a cottage in a foreign countryside, or writing an author’s bio for my bestseller.

And as I end another day, exhausted and satisfied, I will put a beautiful, bold checkmark next to these events on my little worn piece of paper. I will say I have lived. I have felt. And most importantly, I have done what I came here to do.

My little worn piece of paper won’t stay lonely for long—more pages of dreams are sure to attach themselves. Because I’m inspired by the boundless number of nooks and crannies on this earth, by the countless people there are to meet, the innumerable sceneries to sit and enjoy. The many places on which I want to leave my mark.

Where to begin, you ask?

The answer is here.