We’re so hip, spending most of our wake time in front of a small glass window peering into the moving I/O’s of our counterparts and customers.
Death by digital creeps through our consciousness, slinking in the shadows, slowly stealing away our precious physical seconds.
This is hardly living epic.
What heart pumping increases we do get to experience are mostly non-nonsensical and the result of digital frustration.
Ergo the explosion of the epic events – Leadville, Ragnar, Ironman etc.
The very idea of an epic event sucks at our cerebral center, begging for life, begging you and me to live. It gives us hope that like Neo we can disconnect, however briefly, and soar like we were designed to.
A massive, ludicrous challenge for a mind desperate to find reality in a physical world that slips away a little more each day.
Like Melville and Shelley we go to work on our own beast, and exactly how we will slay it.
Characters we meet and invent become mentors, nemesis, road kill and occasionally the greatest of friends.
Mishaps pound us at the most inopportune times, turning our rough edges into polished and hardened steel ready slice through all future demons.
Triumph, though allusive, becomes not the end but the process of preparation.
Friendship abounds in the stories of those who have gone before, the landscapes we continually cover, and experience and encouragement only those who do can share.
Sacrifice of time, pleasure, comfort, ease, diet, money and much more must be kept in balance lest we cross over into a world of self and never return.
Digital dreamers shutter and scoff… yet they are the sleepers, we are living epic.