The Bucket List...

So, i just read with interest Kris Carr's lastest blog post. It is about The Bucket List. The movie, and what it meant to her!!!

She says: "Have any of you seen the film? Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman's characters get the news that they're going to die of cancer, and soon, they set out to do all the things they always wanted to do before they kicked the bucket-- skydive, climb Everest, see the Pyramids, travel the world. Sounds like a blast! And yet there are also so many great adventures to take on the inward bound journey as well. Are they mutually exclusive? No. But can you truly see the pyramids if your lens is fogged? The most breath-taking sunrise will blur if you only see metastatic bleakness in your minds eye. Do ya know what I mean? Have you ever been to the coolest party, in your honor perhaps, and been 1000 miles away?

If you had 6 months to live and all of the money in the world what would you do before you died?



So, i was thinking...what about making my own "bucket list" or as Kris says a "life list".

Here are some of the things on my "list"

Attend the Raw Spirit Festival
Spend 2 weeks at Hippocrates
Participate in the global juice feast
Travel more
Update my blog daily
Be peaceful
Get another tattoo
Write a book
To get to know at least one new person a week.
Swim with dolphins
Attend the superbowl
Write the scariest psychological thriller
Make my home into a beautiful place to visit
Truly be in love with someone totally, trusting in them 100% and creating a large family.

So, whats on your "life list"

I leave you with a poem i found (i do not know the author)

If I were told: By evening you will die.

So what will you do until then?

I would look at my wristwatch,

I’d drink a glass of juice

bite an apple,

contemplate at length an ant that has found it’s food,

Then look at my wristwatch.

There’d be time left to shave my beard

and dive in a bath, obsess:

“There must be an adornment for writing,

so let it be a blue garment.”

I’d sit until noon alive at my desk

but wouldn’t see the trace of color in the words,

white, white, white …

I’d prepare my last lunch

pour wine in two glasses: One for me

and one for the one who will come without appointment,

then I’d take a nap between two dreams.

But my snoring would wake me …

so I’d look at my wristwatch:

and there’d be time for reading.

I’d read a chapter in Dante and half of a mu’allaqah

and see how my life goes from me

to the others, but I wouldn’t ask who

would fill what’s missing in it.

That’s it, then?

That’s it, that’s it.

Then what?

Then I’d comb my hair and throw away the poem …

this poem, in the trash,

and put the latest fashion in Italian shirts,

parade myself in an entourage of Spanish violins,

and walk to the grave!