“Life is an amazing adventure; it was never intended to be lived in gray-scale.”
I started writing that quote years ago. I’d say at least six or seven years ago (maybe longer than that). It started off as a way to remind myself that the dark days I was experiencing where there to teach me to find the blessing in every situation. I first stated it as a sassy, defiant F-U to the universe for whatever painful, emotional-shredding event I was enduring. The first five words of the quote quickly became my mantra; what comes after the semicolon spewed out of my mouth when I chose to transform my meager existence from stagnate to one of living in forward motion.
Our words have power.
Life is an amazing adventure gifted me the power to alter my perspective and shift any emotional-basket-case shit-show I was experiencing into an adventure. It continues to serves as a reminder that life is good, life is fun, life is however I perceive it. It is a choice, after all.
There is value of keeping travel bucket lists.
Two weeks ago while I was packing the contents of my bedroom, I found a blank, hardcover journal. It’s the perfect notebook to list where in the world I would love to visit and events to witness. I sat down and wrote a checklist that included visiting my sister, Brice Canyon, the east coast where three dear friends live, the hot air balloon festival in New Mexico and so forth.
Yesterday as I scrolled through Facebook in between journal-able thoughts, I found a video on New Zealand. It didn’t take me long to exclaim, “YES! I wanna go there!” I reached over to the folded pile of tatted dresser covers my grandmother made for me to collect my travel bucket list and poof! it was not there. Shoot.
I rolled over to the other side of the bed and rummaged through my nightstand. Nope, not there either. Dang it.
With all the packing, purging and hiding my journals, bills and female personal-care items, I have misplaced my travel bucket list. What the heck? Seriously, Cynthia. Really?
Wa-la! There it is! I found it under the t-shirts. Wait. I don’t remember it having this cover. Must be a touch of brain-strain and mover’s mind (evidently losing items is common with people moving). I opened the book and found my bucket list. On the first line I wrote “2020” behind Ireland (last night I confirmed the dates for our trip to Ireland). It wasn’t until I read the third location on the list that I realized that I don’t have a purple pen and this checklist is written in purple ink. What the heck? I flipped to another page and there, under the “It would be fun to…” header, I found: finish writing Home Shadows. Sweet mother of… Whoa. This is at least seven years old!
This morning I was gifted something very unexpected; confirmation I am on the right track.
Reviewing the old list, the places I wanted to go then are still the destination locations I have a desire to visit. How sweet is that? It’s wild how similar the lists are. Wait. Does this mean I’m one hell of a slow manifester? Or… does it mean that I had to experience what I experienced to truly appreciate and gain the wisdom to experience what it is that I desire to experience. Did I write that right?
So… I’m curious. If you were to sell your home and had no tie-downs, where would go? Again I declare, life is an amazing adventure…