The list

Over the past few years I'd developed a list of things I wanted to do.  The list included places I wanted to go,  things to see, so much I longed to try, stuff to understand, to accomplish, to experience.  There was much I wanted to give, more to learn, all sorts of things to know about.

I could spend my entire life checking things off my list and as I did this, that list would lengthen infinitely, because as you may have guessed - the more you know the more you want to know.

I would never be without a goal.  I'd never become bored.  I'd never be through.  There would always be more to do.

But a list of things to do is just a piece of paper, something I can hold in my hand.  It's contents can be altered with the mere flick of a pen.  I can erase my desires, scratch them out.   I can alter my choices.  I can tear it up and throw it away or a breeze could simply swipe it from me.   Then all that would remain  would be memories of my experiences; photographs, souvenirs and likely the subtle changes within from the way what I'd endured had affected me.  A few life lessons.  Yet the list seemed monumental until...

I discovered that there might in fact be an "anti-list".  I have, quite by accident, figured out why people make lists in the first place.  

A list of things to do and places to go and things to see is what you need when you have hope.  Hope is what you have before you find the love of your life. 

When you find what fills your heart, it makes full your mind, your body and completes all your desires.

The paper on which a list of things to do is written, makes good kindling for the fire you build while you sit beside the person who diminishes your hope and makes pointless your list.

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