Recently I visited Newport Rhode Island for the first time
and went out for a 6 mile run along the cliffs and gorgeous coastline. 
It ended up being a "scene" I'll never forget.
When it was over I had run 13 miles.

"...Sometimes I'm tempted to believe life doesn't mean anything at all. I've read philosophers who say meaningful experiences are purely subjective, and I understand why they believe that, because you can't prove that life, and love and death are anything more than random happenings. But then you start thinking about some of the scenes you've lived, and if you've had a couple of drinks, they have a sentimental quality that gets you believing we are all poems coming out of the mud."

Easy to see why I ran 13 miles.

I just finished reading Donald Miller's "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years." It's one of those books that stays with you long after you've turned the last page. 

I drank up the idea of living your life like a story. It's a more meaningful perspective than anything I've ever heard. When you cross over if you want to leave a legacy that's more significant than someone saying a prayer for you at a holiday dinner; then you should start creating some memorable scenes in your life. There are some heartbreaking and triumphant scenes in my life that are the essence of the memoir I'm working on, and I continue to spend my days trying to make each day stand out from the next. 

A recent trip to Rhode Island for a close friend's wedding ended up being a great scene in my life story. What made the weekend amazing were the people, the atmosphere, and the script. There wasn't a cloud in the sky when we drove over the bridge into Newport and the weather remained stellar the whole weekend. We had a chance to catch up on life with friends that we don't see much anymore due to everyone being caught up in their careers, children, and families(and writing books in my case).


The setting for the weekend was beautiful. All of our dinners were held at Mansions from the Gilded Age, including the wedding reception which was held at Belcourt Castle. I ran my fingers over antiques from the 3rd century, and had the pleasure of spending time with the owner Mrs. Tinney who was thrilled to tell us about her family and the history of the tremendous estate. Every inch of the mansion had a level of hand-crafted detail that is non-existent in today's homes. There was a warm, tarnished feeling to the place; one that you cannot build today. Throughout the weekend there were intimate conversations, laughs, evening walks through the grounds, cups of coffee shared on the porch, mysterious talks of the Illuminati, and laughs about the ghost stories and weird incidents that happened while we were there. I decided to make one night more memorable by loading everyone in my SUV at 3am, picking up two pies and a six pack and heading to the cliffs overlooking the ocean. There was a full moon, and I don't think anyone present will forget that night. We sat on the tremendous rock formations as the ocean lapped at the cliffs and the moonlight sparkled off the white caps. We talked, we laughed, and then we held our wives next to us in silence and looked out at the moonlit ocean. Life is good. I'm not dead yet; I'm living a story.
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