Today, I sat down, in my air conditioned home, looking at photos on my Apple computer, that I captured on my DSLR camera, at a time when I didn't have to work, in a country just a couple flights away and paused to realize. "Man, how fortunate am I?"

So much of our lives are happenstance. I didn't choose to be born where and when I was. Neither did you. I'm from a country where resources are abundant and effortlessly accessible. At a time in human history where flight is even a possibility. When I could capture moments through glass and instantly share them with the world. It was luck of the draw.

These photos taken whilst meandering in Yangon, Myanmar remind me of this. We had just toured a temple, happily eating watermelon and walking towards a harbor when we came upon this scene. Worn and weathered men painstakingly walking up narrow 2x4's loading and unloading tons of grain onto trucks. Dozens of them, some young teenagers, some in their early 60s', People no different than you or I, undertaking back-breaking labor, the only way they can, for a living. Almost certainly for very little.

I see and hear a lot of complaining about petty things, and at times, I'm guilty of it as well. It really only takes a little perspective to pull ourselves out of our little bubbles to see what we take for granted.

If you're reading this, I ask that you stop for a moment and take a look around. Pause and reflect on how fortunate you really are. If it helps, use these pictures for perspective.

"That could've been me.", I imagine.

...It could've been you too.

Today is significant for me. On this day, my Grandfather passed away at 86 years of age.

I wanted to pause and reflect on this for just a moment.. At 86 my Grandfather had lived about 3 of my lifetimes. He was married to my Grandmother for 63 years before she passed on last year. Together they would have many children and their children would also have children. Only then does my story even begin. Up until then, he had already loved, lost, laughed, cried, and lived multiple lifetimes of experiences. That is so utterly bewildering to me.

As I became a young adult, and as the physical distance between us grew, the further apart we became. But the many years of watching him get up from his chair, through the living room window, to answer the door with smile or the way the stubble from his weekly shave brushed against my cheek or the warmth of his hug and voice as I was pulled into his arms, is not lost on me. He was a simple man of few words, yet a strong one. He never complained about how little he had or how tired he was or how little he was recognized. He always just did the best he could and always, always with love.

We all go the same and eventually the torch will be passed from one generation to the next. And at some point we will all question our life's path and purpose. Imagine, looking 60 years into the future and wondering if the life you lived was a good one. If you really lived to your fullest potential. If you could go back to where you are now, what would you do differently? With this in mind, the older I get and the closer and longer I look in the mirror, the more I see his reflection. Our resemblance is hard to deny. And it's now, more than ever, that I question whether my life will be a story worth telling.

Only time will tell, but the torch is now mine to bear and the fire burns bright.

What about yours?

In memory of Manuel and Maria Marrujo.

We got lucky. Admit it.

The Torch