The 11th Item

Well. Shit.

Whoever thinks past, like, the first three?

I’m already good on: travel as far as possible, get married to my love, take a pilgrimage, write a book etc. etc. – but number 11?

Do you know what is past that all-weird-but-not-really-important-for-some-reason top ten?

For those of us who like lists, thinking about a “bucket list” or something equivalent isn’t too strange. Trying to imagine what those things would be for us in our (hopefully) super long lives, past the first three to ten, though, is rough.

It forces me to imagine more intricately. To think about where, and with whom, I truly envision the capacity to make certain small, but all-too-crucial, dreams to come true.

And you know what, I have no idea what my number eleven is…beyond this:

To love.

To be loved.

To breathe.

To allow myself to breathe.

To practice love and breath in a place I cherish, with those I adore, in mutual awe of the world with which we are gifted.

To try.

To attempt to make positive change through the love and dedication I know is possible.

To not feel defeated.

To persevere.

The failures of the past must not be an excuse for the inaction of the present and future. ~MLK, Jr.

But the true #11?

Drink tequila (or whatever) with Chilean scientists, whilst climbing through the penguin-covered Southern Pole…god I love penguins.

***

The Art of the Everyday, January 3 – Kick it: What’s the 11th item on your bucket list?

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