Better to die living your dream.
My friend and I got into a brief discussion about death. He is an obsessed (divorced, wanderer) paraglider and pretty much knows how he will die. During out discussion he revealed that if he ever had a terminal disease he would fly up to 10,000 feet and release his harness from the glider or inject a massive dose of heroin.
You meet a lot of travelers on the road that love “freedom.” They try to travel and live their dream. But in the end they hope to control their final fate and not suffer much.
A nice young couple camping at my current hotel has a young boy of about 3 years old and they are expecting another child. They must be in their middle 20s and live in a dirty sun faded tent. Cooking their own meals and spending their days weaving jewelry-- they are free. Free to spend as much time with their son and each other as they want. Free to go hungry or free to eke out a living selling their works of art.
The ticking clock of our life begins when the sperm and the egg meet. Some of us will be on this earth longer than others. Laughter and tears. Hunger and fed.
We try to fly into the rising sun, but eventually the sun disappears behind the horizon.
