Day #020

Porto, Portugal

Standing on the Edge of the World

“To sail is necessary. To live is not.”

-              - Fernando Pessoa

I stand at the edge of the Atlantic. A place where waves crash like melodies and the wind bites just enough to wake me up.

Sand cakes my feet – veils of spray coat the pier. A flock of seagulls cuts across the shoreline to the tops of the medieval ramparts.

I smell the unmistakable scent of the ocean and taste salt in the air.

The ancient blue Atlantic – older than time itself – unfolds in front of me into the invisible beyond.

Across the entire horizon, I see the water gently rise and gently fall.

Inhale. Exhale.

And I think to myself: It’s strange how a body of water can feel like both a beginning and an end.

500 years ago, on this beautiful and jagged coastline – a place believed to be the end of the world – intrepid sailors dared to stare across these infinite waters and trace the edge of maps that hadn’t been drawn yet.

Those boys-turned-men stood on these cliffs. Palms calloused. Heart thrumming. Breath shallow with both awe and dread.

Behind them: Safety, family, the familiar. The prayers of their mothers wishing for safe passage.

In front of them: Unfinished diagrams. Unpredictable winds. Unknown destinations.

These were wanderlusts with a lust for certain mortality – but they followed conviction.

To them - if it existed, destiny was out there…and they went looking for it.

Not because they were certain.

Exactly because they weren’t.

We like to think of destiny as fate. “Meant to be.”

Gentle. Romantic. Predestined.

It’s a word stitched into speeches, whispered in churches, printed on t-shirts.

But destiny never feels like what we expect. It doesn’t land with clarity.

It’s not the arc of a John Hughes movie.

It’s a smack. It’s heavy. It’s haunted.

When it arrives for you – when it really presents itself – it doesn’t feel clean. It feels like a storm.

Rarely does it say: You’re ready now.

Instead, it says: Get off your ass and get going.

Destiny lingers like a shadow. It keeps us up at night.

It makes us wonder if we are foolish. Or selfish. Or delusional.

But the real fear – the deeper, more primal fear we encounter – is not doing anything. Staying still. Ignoring the call. Choosing the road more traveled.

It’s the fear of living a life that is never truly yours.

And that’s the paradox of it all:

Destiny is both fate and rebellion – a call to something ancient, and a path no one has dared dream of.

There’s romance in destiny. Of course there is.

You imagine the version of yourself that arrives on the other side – stronger, weathered, transformed.

But there’s heartbreak. Brutal heartbreak.

And sacrifice.

And days when you question everything.

Because the truth is – it’s not just about the journey.

It’s about the toll it takes.

The moments when you doubt your own compass.

The loneliness of not being understood - of walking alone.

The anxiety of constantly moving toward something that isn’t guaranteed.

It’s standing in the middle of a road you never planned to walk – and realizing it’s already too late to turn back.

Coehlo wrote: “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it…” But he never promised the universe would make it easy. Only that it would make it true.

In life, in love, in work - there comes a point where you have to step into the unknown. Not because it’s smart. Or responsible Or practical.

Not because it’s safe.

But because something deep inside you knows: This is the next chapter.

That’s what the sailors did. Even when the wind made no promises. Even when the sea felt indifferent. Even if the ocean threatened to swallow them whole.

So I stand here now – at the edge of the world – and I wonder what I would’ve done if I were one of those sailors…staring into the nothing.

Would I have stayed? Sought the comforts of the world I know.

Or would I have gone – knowing that every mile forward would strip something away. Knowing not everyone that chased this destiny would make it back.

Knowing that if I returned – who would recognize the man that I had become?

Destiny is the leap into the unknown. It’s the path less traveled.

It’s the invisible thread that binds us together and simultaneously makes us who we are.

If we close the door to destiny, we’ll always live with the “what ifs” and “could have beens.”

Weights of regret – an emptiness to our story.

But if we leap – if we choose the unknown – we cross a line that cannot be uncrossed.

We become someone new. Not because we were ready – but because we demanded it.

Destiny doesn’t wait – it calls.

And if we have the courage to answer, we won’t remain the same person.

We become the hero of our own story. Salt in our blood. Fire in our lungs.

Filled with an unshakeable knowing: We lived. Not safely. Not softly. But with conviction.

That is destiny’s price – a thousand quiet nights wondering if we’ll ever be truly understood.

And it’s also destiny’s gift - living on your own terms.