Though the mines were long-since shut down, the fine dust of self-detachment still lingered, thickly blanketing rooftops and hearts with indiscriminate recourse. And as we slowly drifted downstream, there was a part of me stricken with jealousy.

We came from all directions, each with the expressed purpose of celebrating a friend’s impending nuptials. I sigh knowing that at least I left with a renewed sense of passion for just about everything.

With our evenings around a dying fire (and good beer in hand), we recounted our daily adventures. But what lingered in my head later while dressed in my old sleeping bag was not our acrobatic hijinks from the river, but rather the life decisions of a stranger who was our river guide.

Jay was the embodiment of someone who lives on no one else’s terms. Twice degreed, he surrendered the Cubicle Life of stock trading for an office with a much nicer view, albeit a more demanding schedule. As he deftly steered and paddled our crew along, he shared the history of nearby towns and offered us a glimpse into why he seemingly dropped out of a “regular life” before he turned 30.

As I lay in the tent at night, I couldn’t help but be envious. I drifted to sleep wondering what-if’s and why-not’s. Instead of a life flourescent, chronicled by Post-It Notes and chasing away the chains of The Desk by miles on treadmills, I had all but forgotten that another path even existed. Had I sought inner peace instead of future security… Had I listened to my heart and not my head… Had I…

Even now, surrounded once again by it all, there is a part of me so envious, so covetous that it almost makes the renewed daily grind unbearable. But deep down I know that dropping out, wrapping myself in picturesque landscapes and sleepy coal towns is not an answer to my life’s question. And as I drove home yesterday, leaving the trees and water to my back, I was again thankful for the life that I do have and the one that I actively chose.

So while my office may not be a slice of history, and my treadmill may not be as enthralling as a level five rapid, I am luckier than I think I even realize.

And besides, there will always be those trips, those friends and those bottles of fireside beer to make me remember. At least I hope so.