Well Vectored

Surf kayaking allowed the mind to wander wildly but not pointlessly, always very therapeutic.

The day the waterspout appeared while paddling back to shore as quickly as possible, images of what might happen next played out in the mind's eye, uncensored and fantastical.

There is a very fine line between strategic trajectory optimization and getting absolutely wiped out by whatever disaster looms. Imagining the waterspout latching and finding myself suspended mid-air by it, head-over-heels, watching my kayak embark on a solo journey out of reach while a remarkably indifferent pelican tracked my brief flight path, I was struck by a singular, gleeful realization: life is a trip and everything is going well as long as I do not panic.

We are taught from youth to believe in the myth of the rigid blueprint. We are told to map out five-year plans, secure our risk-mitigation portfolios, and steer our lives with the grim, white-knuckled grip of a captain commanding a dreadnought. But the older I get, the more I realize that the universe isn't a predictable shipping lane; it's a chaotic, multidimensional storm surf. The secret to life well-lived isn't avoiding rouge waves. It's learning how to enjoy the tumbling tension induced, and if survived, the exhilarating, joyous release from them all.

Looking back from the vantage point of seven decades now, the true triumphs of existence were never the products of flawless, linear execution. They have been result of staying alert enough to sense various opportunity vectors and altering course to head into the best ones.

Looking closely at the grand scheme of things, the array of options looks a lot like a web of interconnected realities, helping me realize how survival so far has largely been a matter of spatial awareness and shameless opportunism. It's about being in the right place, at the right time, with eyes wide open, alert for any gilded possibilities, while the universe is throwing raw, chaotic potential from every angle, then setting or adjusting goals accordingly.

My best trajectory outcomes? Pure, unadulterated alignment with the absurd. I didn't find my greatest joys by charting a safe course; I found them because, when the metaphorical rogue waves of life peaked above me, I had the presence of mind to think, "Well, this is going to make an incredible story if I survive it." And that is the crux of the elder perspective. By the time I hit seventy, I'll have survived countless storms, economic tsunamis, direct attacks from leviathans of the deeps, and the crushing weight of societally-defined adulthood. I somehow developed a certain immunity to panic. When life flings me out of my comfort zone my brain never really screamed "Why me?", instead, calculating all resistances.

There are infinite versions of me scattered across the multiverse right now. One of them is probably sitting in a perfectly dry, ergonomically correct office chair still gainfully employed and dutifully committed to corporate policy and bottom-line target. Frankly, I think this version of me won the great draw. This life trajectory has been wild. A journey well vectored.