A Little Source of Inspiration

So I'm reading this book called The Last American Man by Elizabeth Gilbert. It's about a guy, Eustace Conway, who lives off of the land in his teepee somewhere near the Appalachian Mountains. Obviously, there's a lot more to him than just that, but for the sake of passage, you get the idea. Here's a little excerpt describing a time he rode his horse across the country with a few pals:

The three riders galloped along, burning away nearly fifty miles a day. They ate roadkill deer and squirrel soup. They slept in barns and in the homes of awestruck locals, but when they reached the dry, open West, they fell off their horses every night and slept on the ground where they fell. They were nearly killed by swerving eighteen-wheelers when their horses went wild on a busy interstate bridge one afternoon. They were nearly arrested in Mississippi for not wearing shirts. In San Diego, they picketed their horses along a patch of grass between a mall and an eight-lane highway. They slept there that night and arrived at the Pacific Ocean the next afternoon. Eustace Conway rode his horse right into the surf. It was ten hours before Easter. He had crossed the country in 103 days, setting, while he was at it, a world record.
From coast to coast, Americans of every conceivable background had looked up at Eustace Conway on his horse and said, "I wish I could do what you're doing."
And to every last citizen, Eustace had replied, "You can."

So yeah. This is my life. I can do what I want with it. I'm the only one responsible for who I am. I'm the only one to look at if I don't like what I'm doing, or if I feel like I'm missing out on something that matters. This is something I've been pondering over the last six months or so. I can be great, I can accomplish things, all I have to do is be willing to make it happen. Again, I don't see any reason not to.

Now off to Alaska. I'm thrilled for what's in store for me, but I'm being careful what I wish for. I want adventure, I want adrenaline, I want nature in its purest form, I even want discomfort, but there's a coherent risk to it all that we have to accept along with the beauty. Alaska is no Disneyland, it's the wild, there's no telling what may happen, and that's exactly what people are drawn to.