Relishing the moment

I'm not sure when it happened, but suddenly (it seems), our family schedule is incredibly busy.

Between after-school game attendance, mid-week church activities, homework responsibilities, doctor appointments, late meetings at work, chores around the house, meal preparations and clean up, it seems to never end.

And I'm not even home all day with a four-year-old like my wife Rae is. I'm actually surprised when I show up in the evening and she's still there. I just know I'm going to come home one day and find a note:

Hi Sweetie. Went crazy. Have a nice life. Love, Rae
(PS: the dishes in the dishwasher are still dirty)

It's incredibly difficult to ensure that all of the loose ends are caught each day. Sign the planner for school. Have you brushed your teeth? No DS until your chores are done. Where's my brush? No, you may not watch a movie; it's five minutes before bedtime. Why was your practice let out late again? Sorry, honey, another late meeting tonight. I'm serious about the DS; put it away until chores are done. How many people are coming over tonight? Is it really that late already? The toilet's running again. Why is it 100 degrees in your bedroom; did you leave your heater on again? But the bottle said "shake well before using"; I didn't know the lid wasn't on. Chew your food with your mouth closed. Okay, the DS is mine for one week; I don't care that you didn't save your game. (This shtick could have gone on much longer, but I think you get the idea).

And that's without making stuff up.

A calm spot graciously appeared recently. I came home from a late meeting, the kids were off to bed. Rae had some hot water on the stove for my tea, and we got to spend about one hour together, just talking. To each other. No kids, no homework, no fire alarms. Blessed calmness.

I guess the calmness only appears as calm as it does because of all the hustle and bustle the rest of the time, but it sure feels great when it occurs. The trick is to take advantage of the time without throwing something else in there to fill the "down time".

Take the down time, fellow adventurers; take it, feel it, relish it, absorb its recharging capabilities; stay connected with the important things and people in your life to ensure they stay important. And you will have the renewed energy to meet the adventurebolts of...tomorrow.

3 is the new 46

It must be great to be three years old.

My youngest daughter is the poster child for limitless energy, boundless curiosity, and of course, has absolutely no idea what it means to be quiet.

Every room or place she has to go requires running, skipping, or hopping (or a combination of all three). Every question or need that pops into her mind escapes her mouth without hesitation or thought. Every unanswered question gets repeated incessantly until acknowledged.

When do we lose that sense of wonder and simple joy at the slightest distraction? What is it like to not have a to do list, but living only in the moment for what is at hand? What is it like to be so content and secure to simply fall asleep in the car on the way home from somewhere? (Probably not advisable when you're the driver).

She always wants to hold hands when we're out somewhere in public, and she smiles all the time at everyone; everyone, that is, right until the time a parent says "It's time for bed.". Bedtime to a three year old is evil; it's the antithesis of everything living and full of energy, and must be avoided at all costs. But, once resigned to the inevitable and tucked into bed, she is able to entertain herself by singing songs and making grand hand-motions as she recounts some story in her mind, until becoming sleepy.

I like the age of three. And I will endeavor to allow myself the indulgence to do everything with enthusiasm, make every destination an adventure, and never stop questioning until I receive an answer.

"All it takes is the going..."

Having recently watched the classic movie "Lawrence of Arabia," I was struck by the fanatical zeal of T.E Lawrence, the character played by Peter O'Toole . While much of his idealism was contagious to those around him, it demonstrated the folly of thinking one is invincible in the pursuit of an ideal.

There is much talk today about simply believing enough in your dream to make it happen, or visualizing the result to bring it to reality. Even in the movie, when Lawrence is confronted with the challenge to cross a foreboding stretch of desert to reach the city of Aqaba for a surprise military attack, he demonstrates a glimmer of this mentality.

As he tries to convince his Arab counterpart Ali (played by Omar Sharif) of how this can be accomplished, he grabs Ali by the arm, walks him out of the tent, and points across the desert. "Aqaba lies in that direction," he says to Ali. "All it takes is the going."

Indeed, from a motivational standpoint, that is a great way to view goals and objectives: all it takes is the going. But sometimes, the going takes everything you have, and that is the reality side of idealism.

Coincidentally, I also recently finished reading the book "Into the Wild" by Jon Krakauer; the true story of a young idealist, Christopher McCandless, who determines to live off the land in the Alaska wilderness in pursuit of a life-long dream. While he was in pursuit of his dream, and was living it in the lifestyle choices he made, it ultimately cost him his life when it overwhelmed his physical ability to provide for his nutritional needs.

The accomplishment of your goal or objective therefore hinges on two critical things: the ability for you to clearly identify your destination (as Aqaba), and your ability to persevere in that objective until it is accomplished (to cross a desert that could possibly take your life). That is the risk side of any objective, and the true adventure lies in the unknown factor of the outcome during the process.

This is what truly fuels the spirit: the pursuit of that adventurebolt which beckons to the deepest desires, and a life crafted around this purpose.