I finished The White Masai by Corinne Hofmann a few weeks ago. What a great book. It’s about a woman who, while vacationing in Kenya with her boyfriend, falls in love with a Masai warrior on the spot, then moves to the bush with him! It took me a long time to get into it, but the second half was much more incredible than the first.

Strangely, I liked the book better when their relationship started to unravel. That’s never happened before — I can’t tell you how much I cried through The Time Traveler’s Wife….I’d say more, but I don’t want to ruin one of the most phenomenal books I’ve ever read. I love the romance. But not this time.

But the best part, in my opinion, is the subtitle. An exotic tale of love and adventure.

I want that to be the subtitle of my biography. Or maybe the first line in my obituary.

That, in my opinion, is a life well-lived. Filled with love — at least one great love, as it says up in the top right corner of this blog — and adventure. A life of making huge decisions on a whim, hopping on planes at the very last moment, embracing the complicated, the impossible, the painful, all in the name of making life more interesting. All in the name of feeling more, even if it’s pain.

Think of it like a novel. Nobody wants to read about a neat life all sewn up and perfect. I couldn’t understand the blind happiness in The White Masai when Corinne and Lketinga were blissfully happy together, despite being unable to speak the other’s language. If all you know is blind happiness, then are you truly living?

I’m enjoying a very complicated life right now. And I know it will only grow more complicated. But I like it that way. I cry. I dream. I change. I am.

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