Story.

"I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not life and not when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived." 

- Henry David Thoreau

Sometimes it's in the most unexpected ways, and unexpected times, when we finally come to this place in our thinking where suddenly everything changes. It's almost like looking at your life through a different color lens. Our surroundings take a new shape. But often times when these changes come we look at the world around us, and the way others engage their world and it appears static, uniform, and without dynamic. This observation can often precede an attitude of subtle, yet difficult frustration and follow by a strong desire to awaken others to this new paradigm in which we've stepped. But we cannot control the thoughts and hearts of others, and we cannot play God.

Seasons of busyness and rest have come and gone, and the older I get the more I realize that the life that the life that plays out before me is a story that I'm writing. Every moment, every thought, every trial is a part of a narrative that will culminate into a novel with many chapters. I think that the most important question that we can ask ourselves is “what will my story be?” A suspense thriller? A romance novel? A mystery? A classic perhaps? Or God-forbid an analytical commentary on the Kaluza-Klein theory (as interesting as that may be to some..). It’s one thing to live life, it’s another thing to drink it.