A young man, about 16 or 17 years old, was lying at the edge of a cliff, looking at the clouds. The young man felt alive. The world was in him and around him. A tiny little speck of happiness, he was nothing and he was everything.
A few years later, the man left his country and found a place where he could evolve and learn. And the more he learned, the more he realized how much more there was to know. He set himself humbly before the world and opened the door to the knowledge and the beauty around him.
Then, after a while, that man then became pretty proud of himself, to be honest.
Because now, he was smart, and he was beautiful, and he knew what kind of people he wanted by his side and what kind of people were wasting his time. He was edgy, and he was rebellious, and he believed in himself.
And the more he believed in himself, the less he thought of others.
And you know what? That's really something you can get used to.
That twenty-something guy would have looked at me chasing my kid around Chuck E. Cheese yesterday with pity, or more likely, with condescension. I would have been one of them. You know them, right? They are the people who chase their kids around, holding their cameras in one hand and the snot rags in the other. They're the ones who think their kids are special. They're the ones who go to Chuck E. Cheese with no sense of irony, as if they could recognize irony if it rained on their wedding day.
But that younger person would have seen it differently. He would have realized that the beauty he found at the edge of the cliff was everywhere, actually. The vision of clouds moving slowly on a warm day was as beautiful as the sound of a child going down a slide. The same mix of living the moment and floating on top of the clouds could also be felt by a father standing a few feet behind his boy, watching his hesitant few steps on his way to interact with other kids. And that humble thirst for knowledge was what being a father was all about.
On our way back home, I panicked for a second. Was that it for me? When I thought to myself that I wanted to go back there as soon as next weekend, was it officially the death of my soul? Funny enough, it was actually the other way around.
Ganglicious baby. - I am a hardcore motherfucker. It is true. Years ago I had this thing called a ganglion on my wrist and it was annoying the shit out of me and making me dro...