Have you ever felt that there is one spot in this Universe where you simply need to be?
That spot can be a location. That happened for me and the Rocky Mountains. I needed to be here, and with patience, I did arrive. Two years ago yesterday.
That spot can be a person. We all know that one person we simply need to know, need to hold, need to kiss, need to make love to. We feel that craving, that urge, that irresistible force that drives us into action or, sometimes, relegates us to inaction. Sometimes just watching her is enough.
That spot can be a moment. We’ve all had the deep desire to do something that drives us beyond our current conditions. Maybe it’s climbing a 14er, or doing an obstacle course race, or writing some words down that best illustrate our hearts in that moment. I remember when, for me, that moment was breaking free of my blood family. It was willing my eyes to see again, demanding that I walk again, deciding that I needed to play with my kids again, and that I wanted to LIVE in a way that gave honor to the act of LIVING.
I guess I’ve come to realize over the years that living is discovering those spots. Like pixels on a great canvas, those spots neatly (or not so neatly) arrange themselves into a portrait whose story must be told. To miss out on any one pixel is to leave a blank space, and to leave a blank space seems to do a dishonor to the artist.
I know my spots, that much I am certain.