Just out of Reach

I read somewhere that Jack White organizes his various instruments on stage so that they’re not easy to get to. It’s this forced adversity that gives his live show a sense of excitement, of urgency, that at any given moment it could all fall apart and topple off some intangible edge.

I too often put myself intentionally into adverse situations. Like the time I hiked Mt. Katahdin (the highest peak in Maine and the northernmost endpoint of the Appalachian trail) on a limited water supply so that when I reached the top, I had only a few mouthfuls left and it felt like I had walked up every step of the 5,267-feet incline; or how whenever I visit a new city I like to explore on foot, walking extra miles to get from one part to next, refusing to use taxis and limiting the amount of public transportation.

Afterwards, I always find myself wondering why. Why make it harder on myself? The answer is simple. Life’s greatest joys come from scarcity and exertion, not abundance and privilege. When it’s your sweat and blood on the line, you have a greater appreciation for reward. When you’re sapped of energy, you have a greater appreciation for relaxation. And when something is just out of reach, you have a greater appreciation for touch.