Contentment and Other Equally Dreadful Words…

Why is it that when we have a life full of activity and extreme business, we long for a slower life, but when we have that inevitable slow season in life, we desperately desire a faster lifestyle?

Odd, isn’t it? Or maybe I’m just odd.

Once we jump the proverbial fence, we find that the grass is in fact not greener on this side; it just tastes a bit different (and not always better).

So here’s my question:

What’s so wrong with jumping fences?

Isn’t the desire to achieve greater things in life totally worth expending the extra effort? And yes, sometimes the achievement is not quite as sweet as expected, causing us to look across another fence and think “gosh, the grass over there looks pretty freaking amazing.”

But what if we never jump a fence? What if we never seek that which seems unattainable? What if we stay in our own little area, eating the same grass we've been eating all your life, and never experience the rush of success or the agony of failure?

Is it possible that the phrase “I am content” is simply a thinly veiled statement of complacency? One should never be “content” with life, they should always be seeking challenges, new opportunities, and crazy adventures.

So the real question is this: does the word “contentment” share it’s etymologious beginnings with the words “boring” and “lazy”?

Hell On Horseback...

I almost died.

Oh sure, I'm being a bit dramatic, but the fact remains that I seriously could have died.

So there I was, in the middle of a swampy forest, on the back of this unpredictable hellion, seeing my short life flash before my eyes---all the while struggling to maintain a cool and calm exterior as not to be the laughing stock of the group.

It was about that time that I realized I might not come out of the forest alive.

I envisioned such gruesome images as my poor lifeless body being pummeled again and again by the sharp death-hooves of my hellion steed, or being impaled by a jagged tree-stump, or my personal favorite, dieing of embarrassment when I find out that the horse I'm on is like 100 in horse years.

Here is a list of the methods the evil hellion used to try and rid the world of me:

Bucking (at least 3 times)
Picking the smallest gap between trees to go through
Turning circles under an extremely low branch
Trying to kick the horse behind me, causing my butt to go rocketing out of the saddle
Trying to bite the little pony right next to me, and then dashing away (drastic changing of directions)

Obviously, I didn't die, I even ended up coming out of the dark, mucky forest physically intact.

As I was heading back to the barn, I realized that I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Odd as it sounds, the adrenaline rush was amazing, and the feeling of complete helplessness was actually pretty refreshing. How often do I participate in something that is life threatening, or at the very least, could result in serious injury? Not often.

As a result of this new revelation, I have resolved to participate in a life threatening activity at least once a month.

Next up:

Leaving the house without my ipod...

Gosh, a little part of me died just typing that.