It seems that every time I arrive at an intersection in life, I find myself on board an aircraft, making my way halfway across the globe in search of some elusive feeling from a bygone era.

Tomorrow I turn 33, a significant milestone, only the third time in my life where my age reflects the two same numbers consecutively. I look back to the last time this happened, at the ripe age of 22. So much has changed, I was lost then and although I continue to be lost 11 years later, todays notion of lost has a positive tint to it. As if being lost is a prerequisite to something greater.

Who knows, maybe the next time this anniversary comes about, in 11 year’s time I will have found something. But it seems more than likely I will have more questions than before.

These internal disputes are key. They broaden the mind and ensure complacency doesn’t make a home for itself. However conducive to growth these internal disputes may be, they do lead one down an uncomfortable path, one which tests the mind to its limits. I understand things about myself a lot more these days.

At 33 I’m still a firm believer that anything is possible, but this belief is also tempered by the experience that possibility and outcome aren’t always interlinked. Each choice we make has a consequence, this much has always been a given, but I’m clearer now than ever that it’s the choices we do not take that impact our lives the most.

At 29, on the precipice of my third decade I wrote that the world continues to be my playground, this still holds true and I am extremely grateful for this.

I hope this idea of motion never ceases. Last night I watched a movie, where the wife says to her husband ‘if you want to hit a six, you have to be willing to get out’. Of course it was always going to be a cricketing metaphor that sounded so poignant to me. But it is true. You’ve got to take your shot, this isn’t a dress rehearsal for some greater grand performance to come. Imagine getting out while not even attempting to hit 6, now that would be dire.

I have been talking about the concept of a village a lot recently. Proximity to those you care for becomes more and more important as our limited days pass us by. A strong stable village brings with it peace, strength and a helping hand. Let’s never forget to ask one another for help, we were never designed to take on this life by ourselves, we would be foolish to think so.

I notice people don’t read as much these days, this is one of the greatest shames of the modern world. Reading will always be of a higher plain than listening or watching. It requires undivided attention and boundless imagination. Attention spans are decreasing, long form content and art have been substituted for summaries and headlines. I find it a lot more difficult to concentrate and be present, the mind hijacked by the plethora of options readily available each second.

I’m not sure what this piece of writing is meant to be. Maybe it just a letter to myself. To look back upon at the next important juncture of life. To remind myself that to be extraordinary you cannot be average, a mantra I profess at home on a day to day basis. I hope I never trip into the ever welcoming corridor of mediocrity.

Be kind. Love. Create. Pray. Go out of your way to help people. Believe in the way of the universe and always listen to the generous signs it gives us.

Don’t overcomplicate things. The sun shall set tonight and rise again tomorrow, as it always has.

DV.