Curiosity killed the cat?

Damn, sometimes I scratch my head in wonder at my thoughts. I can lie awake at night at times, not able to sleep, and my mind just races like the Autobahn. Continuous circles of an endless road that stretches on for what seems forever. Then I wake up, albeit groggily, and give thanks for the coming day; it just always seems that my raceway seems to follow right along. Most of the time though, my memories have a way of forcing their way in, and for a while the race heads in for a pitstop. Then I get the opportunity to remember a time when, and eventually put that into print. This would be one of those times. Here you go, and may you enjoy...

It's like you hear a timer being rotated in circles, and you know you only have a small amount of time in a place, before you hear the ding of the bell. I speak of travelling all the time, but that is only because it is good for the soul, and that so many of my friends feel the same. Brasil is going to Miami, California is in Thailand, Canada is headed to New Zealand, and Newfoundland is going to America. We are all searching for the ring that I feel is close at hand for this cat; all it depends on now is not "if" it happens, but when it happens. When my forehead slammed into the ground, I could almost hear the ding going off in the background...for my race was only just beginning, and so no time limit can ever be enforced on me. Scattered images of a broken body, confused mind, and an insatiable thirst in those days. There was a hunger to heal, to rebuild and mend what was willing to be remade.

I knew my back was okay the day I flew off the lip on Mount Washington in Vancouver Island, and ended up catching my edge on the take-off. I was roasting at the roller and was in mid-rotation when it happened. It sent me about 8 feet in motion until I slammed into the solid groomed snow below. The collision was hard, quick, and I landed straight on my bankroll; sending my jacket up over my chest, and exposing my once-broken-back to the cold snow. I slid another 10 feet at high speeds, upside down, and laughed the whole entire time. I could feel the quickly heating snow all along my lower posterior, but didn't care about the burn...I was riding again, and nothing else mattered anymore. I remembered how I stood at that same base in the opening days of season, and how I gave thanks that I would be able to go snowboarding again. Then, had the same lifestyle show me that things are always going to be fine. Just trust, believe, and enjoy the ride. The freedom it allows, the soft surf on the wave of snow, and the timer is always on for the search. I can only compare it to travelling to a new beach, surfboard in hand, and finding a break so sweet that you ride it everyday that you are there.

Now, here I sit at a computer on the East Coast, coming back to the present day and time. The sun breaks through the clouds, showing promise for the coming night. Blink, and a day passes; open them and another begins. It all comes down to friendship, people, it all comes down to friendship. From there, you grow the confidence to explore and reconstruct your comfort zone, ready to head out and lay your own tracks. For me, it all comes down to this - if you are feeling like selling everything you own, storing the rest, and taking off into the dawn like a bandit in the night...then what are you still doing here? Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it will never dent the soul of the survivor. I mean, forward progression is the link to survival, is it not? It's all good, my man, it's all good.

Hold on McGinty. Hold on.

"Every man ought to be inquisitive through every hour of his great adventure down to the day when he shall no longer cast a shadow in the sun. For if he dies without a question in his heart, what excuse is there for his continuance?
- Frank Moore Colby