So I have hopefully made my intentions clear with what this site hopes to accomplish; inspire you to try the new, the exciting, the unfamiliar, everything that's just waiting to be seen and felt. And while all of that is still the greater part of the picture, I find myself incapable of escaping the desire to write about my literal meaning of exploring our own backyard. So on a night such as this, that is exactly what I intend to do.
With a warm breeze sweeping across the lot, I am suddenly drawn to the thought of pulling out a lawn chair and sitting in what I once considered a massive field, a never ending sea of green, green grass. Of course, and quite unfortunately, that field has shrunk with age and it now stands simply as a fair sized lot of grass. Regardless of its scale, it continues to hold and build fond and lasting memories.
Its shape has changed; where the great willow tree once stood, tree house and all, there now sits a narrow hollow. The dog house along the shed is long gone, as is its occupant, my poor beloved Holly. And where a basketball net once cried for attention, there is just a solid and cold cement slab, sinking more and more each year from the settling of the land.
No matter which corner I look into, however much it has changed, there will always be a memory to spark some inspiration. A remembrance of my brother and I setting up the tent to camp under the stars. My mother gardening through the summer, and, as always, my father by the grill, delivering delicious tidings to our plates. Ah, the smells and tastes of summer barbecue.
As I sat there in a deepening thought, it became truly saddening to me that this house I once called a home will no longer invite me in so graciously. After 25 plus years of taking for granted the walls that helped shelter me from so many storms, the only thing I can do is take solace in the fact that, soon, a new family will be forming lasting memories of their own within its layered walls. I hope they do so with the content I feel now.
And so what does this all mean to you? Why bother reading about the thoughts of someone whose memories you do not share? Well, I think it's because we all have our own memories to rekindle, our own fading thoughts to caress. I believe that a great part of exploring the unknown is rediscovering those things that make us adventurous, and as we grow older, those tendencies seem to fade. So, by stepping foot off the back stoop and pausing to think about what got me here today, I feel a reconnection with my carefree childhood attitude. I remember things that spark inside me what we all wish to feel, and it only makes me want more.
The backyard I grew up in has changed, without question it is a different place with different scenery, but that shouldn't mean I can't build new memories within it. It shouldn't instill fear in me to step onto the grass and feel something new beneath my toes. If nothing else, the new landscape should only entice and invite that very action. To take a step before I leap, to try the new through the old. To pick up where I somehow left off.
And so I think you should too. Make this your first big adventure. Instead of flicking the TV, take a conscious step outside and begin to recollect those childhood memories of your own backyards, your own willow trees and your own basketball courts; when was the last time you gave your loving childhood pet a minute's thought during the day? (and I ask that in the most respectful way possible.) I suggest not getting defeated by the intimidating changes life can dish out, instead take them as a chance to start getting excited again about everything that can still be yours.
More to come everyone.
Phil
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