I went up to the park on Burnaby Mountain tonight to sort out some thoughts. Walking along the path, it seemed like there was a magical or mystical atmosphere. Looking over the cliff at the river, fog enshrouded the islands and completely covered the waterway. One could hear the foghorns as boats traversed down the river. Trees stretched above me beyond one's imagination, reaching for the clouded skies. Majestic in their silent splendour, they stood guard over the entire mountain. Looking on the other side, the city was viewable in its entirety, with a heavy mist that seemed summoned eons past. The panoramic scene as one turned around had no beginning and no end, because the mountain ranges in the distance had no distinction, nor radiance. They simply waited ominously in the shadows, challenging wayfarers to pass through to the other side. For what? What treasures or adventures lay there in the lands beyond the horizon? What peoples lived there? What legends were created and feared there? And one realized that this phantasm had a meaning far beyond purpose of life. For one's life was too small to have purpose in this astounding environment. A small piece, a link in the great chain of time, a cog in the unbelievable clockwork of reality, one would be unable to fathom the ramifications of his tiny contributions because his contributions lacked formidability. And so purpose exists in life. And the fog would never lift, lest that purpose be made clear and the awe of it all be lost to the cravings of a searching mind. For the journey is just as gratifying as the destination.
I wrote a poem last night. Writing again finally.
LOL! Amcal needs a date for a networking dinner! If you wish to date this very eligible bachelor, please contact me ASAP. :) He is desperate, as everyone else going to this dinner already has a date. Please note that most of the people attending the dinner will most likely be older than the two of you. It is a Christmas dinner to which his employer has been invited.