Okay, here’s the story; last August I quit my job of almost two years, bought a truck and drove to Alaska. I knew it was probably irresponsible, and it would mean many months of uncertainty and a general lack of security, but I also knew that I needed this.
I’d spent months losing my mind in the everyday this and that, hoping for something to wake me up, to make me feel alive again. I started trying to think back to the last time I felt passionate about something, the last time I was excited to get out of bed. I looked back on some of my old, forgotten bucket lists, and at the top of every one I read “drive to Alaska.”
I realized that I felt most alive when I was deciding my own destiny, I remembered that I was fearless, and brave and that the only thing holding me back was myself. So I let go and I started driving. It was exhilarating! And wonderful! And breathtakingly gorgeous.
Then one morning while I was sitting near my truck, hot coffee in hand, in one of the most insanely beautiful campgrounds, I chuckled to myself, because I was living my dream. Looking out over a glassy lake, watching my warm breath fog up the air in front of me, I remembered that life is extraordinary. Every minute, every hour, every day in each of our lives there is something extraordinary happening. We are all walking miracles.
It’s my responsibility to make something of myself, to follow my own dreams and to appreciate the peculiarities of life, to keep an eye out for those little miracles happening. And so in the spirit of remembrance and inspiration I got a tattoo, with the ancient Greek word for extraordinary, at a little tattoo shop in Juneau, Alaska on my last night there. And now every time I see it I remember that something extraordinary is just around the corner, and I don’t have to settle for ordinary or mundane because I was made for so much more than that.