"When I was young, I was scared of the dark, and rightfully so. When I became a man I laid my bed in the dark and saw it as a blessing that the dark existed, and rightfully so."

When I go on a walk I don't go hoping to find some incredible revelation. If I were to go about it that way, I would have to walk miles on end looking for something that might never come, if it even exists at all. No, when I venture out of my door (generally with a cigarette in hand) I go looking for peace. Peace isn't found in your house. You argue, fuss, complain, clean, leave for work, watch television, eat food, and piss in your house. You can find fragments of peace, but peace dwells in the outdoors. Where you see the glistening of water that reminds you of a mirror when it is calm. Where trees can look like glorious spider webs spread across a canvas so vast that it looks as if it never ends or like an ominous cage keeping you from seeing the freedom that is the sky. Where the earth beneath your feet is so soft that you want to make your bed there and lay your head on a tuft of grass that has survived the heat of summer and soaked in the gift of rain for months on end. Where snow can bring you back to memories of reading C.S. Lewis or discourage you from venturing out your door without the hopes of enjoying a steaming mug of hot cocoa on your way back in. Where mere words cant describe every nook and cranny. That is where peace is, and that's why I venture out of my door. Because without peace, what is your life but a string of chaotic events?