Release all Preconceptions

Overheard while having a cup of coffee at a local spot—
"I can't wait."
"When will we go sledding?"

And from another child, "It's my first blizzard."

Unfortunately for all those waiting to see the inches pile up—the big event happens late late afternoon and through the night and most of tomorrow.

How many firsts we have over a lifetime and often we're not as alert as the youngster in naming something as a first—something new and fresh. Of course not all firsts are pleasant nor do we desire to repeat all first experiences. I never want to repeat the first, and only time, I was stung by a jellyfish.

I recall the first time I wrote a sentence—no punctuation, all lower case letters, and with a red crayon. Stringing the words out so they made sense felt powerful and grown-up. It's a can't be repeated experience.

I know someone who often says, "Did that, did that." As if something that's repeated lacks credence and must be dull.

Looking at something in a new way is a first experience. Those who write self-help books are delighted to tell people how to create new experiences, how new experiences enhance their life, how without new experiences you'll just shrivel up and mummify.

But firsts aren't about going out there and attempting to lasso new experiences and adding them to a life time list—like a birders list—and checking off each item with a black marker.

* Parachuted yesterday.
* Wednesday wore my clothes backwards.
* Sunday attended my thirty-third different religious establishment.
• Wore six inch spikes and didn't fall

Many firsts are magical. I remember the first time I went sledding, the first time my daughter sat on my lap and we went sledding down a small hill, the first time I made a snowman, the first time I fell off a plastic saucer and continued spinning down the icy hill.

The world is filled with firsts—it's a matter of recognizing them, of releasing preconceptions about firsts.

Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.
— Soren Kierkegard