6/3/2025
Ever top out on a rise and see country open out in front of you that makes you feel great and so very small at the same time? I think it was one of those times when I realized how much I love the sun in my face in the morning.
Some things are just too big to get a good grip on. I felt that standing back of a cabin up in Clam Gulch last month. Been thinking about it since. Alaska is wild and big. And a bit scary. And I love that. We were down the Kenai Peninsula and on a boat with a halibut guide headed out Cook Inlet. I commented that the area seemed wild. “Yeah.” And he pointed west and said, “But if you want wild, try out there.” Okay. Maybe. Some day.
This all brings me back to that quote Mike Gaddis shared in his book, Turning for Home, about growing up and memories, “… And strangely, you shall find they both comfort and haunt you. At a time when you will wish as much for yesterday as now you beg for tomorrow.”
You will wish as much for yesterday as now you beg for tomorrow. That is an idea that has haunted me. I don’t want to wish for yesterday or beg for tomorrow. But I guess I do both. At the same time.
Maybe you do too.
How about we live like there isn’t a yesterday or a tomorrow? How about we live the best we can right now. Looking back only enough for an anchor for trajectory and the future only enough for direction.
It seems like it’s best to always do the best we can, and then let the chips fall where they will. I heard it said of a man who had a lot of success in a couple of arenas that he credited his success to the fact that once he made a decision, he never thought about it again. No second guessing.
No wishing. No longing. Just the best we can. Every time.