A Matter of Perception

Let's face it: we all dream of adventure. We dream of the places we'll travel and the things we'll see. We want to have one of those "perfect adventures". But to be honest, I've never had a planned adventure that lived up to my expectations.

About a month ago, my sister and I were staying with very dear friends of ours. The day was drawing to a close and we set out for a walk, carrying along my sister's rucksack with a dozen cookies, a beach towel, and some glitter. Why glitter? Because, being such easily enchanted people, we wanted to blow glitter in the air. At golden hour.

I'd heard many-a-time about the area to which we were traveling, but had no concept of its beauty. In fact, I had such little idea of it, that I almost didn't bring my camera. We walked and skipped and twirled down the paths. Past the house in the model of a castle. Past the abode which looked like a museum. Past the invisible wall dividing our world from this enchanted escape.

When we finally reached the opening to the wood, my voice rang in exclamation as I discovered a wood previously unbeknownst to me. But even the wood and the joy it gave me couldn't compare to the enchantment of our destination in all of its beauty. Following our traipse through the wood, we came to the clearing. A lake on our right and an enormous hill on our left. A little deck at the bottom of the mini mountain... just before the land turned into a prairie. The sun was blazing golden and the result  was an elated quartet of adventurers.

We divided the cookies and nibbled them upon the deck. As the temperature dropped we scrapped the towel's duty of being our picnic blanket, and it became a cape. And a shawl. And a flag in the wind. While the other three danced up the hill, gasping for breath, I took every moment and captured it in my memory-- and with my camera. Perhaps there are no moments more ingrained in my mind than these.

Eventually, we came to the glitter blowing portion of the day. As my little sister and her friend hung on a swinging branch, my friend and I began with the glitter. Of course I had my camera out, striving to get just the perfect shot. And I did.

After all of this, we packed up and hit the trails to head home, as we all mused about how wonderful the day was. And because it can't be completely perfect, I got hit in the head by a three-foot stick... but that was no big deal because I was too happy to care.

The point of this is not to make you jealous or discontent. In stead, I hope that you see that adventure can come when we least expect it. This adventure almost came without my camera around my neck, which means that I had very little anticipation of it. And while these adventures are wonderful, discovering the adventure in everyday things is just as important. Perhaps your perception of adventure depends on how you see life. What do you think?

What is your fondest memory of adventure?

Love and a hug,

Lindsey Lou