We go camping every year around the fourth of July with a group of friends to celebrate the end of the world. The world ends on July 5, 1998 at 7 AM.
Of course it never has. Yet. In case you’re wondering, the going theory is that the “conspiracy” has messed up our calendar and we don’t really know what year it is. It winds up being a great party despite the fact the aliens seem to never pick us up. (Damn aliens.)
But there is an interesting point there. Said another way: “The world ends tomorrow — you might die.”
What would you do if you knew that to be true? It would get you off your butt that’s for sure. If the world doesn’t end then you’ve done something that you wanted to do anyway.
We ate at the Rusty Bucket tonight. Billy Joel’s Piano Man came on stereo. I looked it up. I was released in 1973 — the same year I was born. (!) I don’t want to be the old man in the old man in the song wearing a younger man’s clothes. I don’t want to be John at the bar. I want to live my life. Live it. For real.
Embrace the uncertainty.
Go along for the ride.
Trust your gut.
It is your density.
The world ends tomorrow.
You might die.