Forever Climb from End to End.

Futurama is a true masterclass on how to end things. Even though there’s yet another season on the way, I couldn’t be happier with the way they ended this one.

Funny, I’ve said that four times before.

I’m confident by this point that I will say that in the world of tomorrow as well. 

Now, I’m considering my own good endings. Particularly the recent ones. 

Yesterday, I did something I never expected to do by myself. I climbed a dune by myself. 

I had climbed the dune before, with my dad’s feet and undying strength behind me. My grandfather, who was not necessarily at his best health after years of motorcycle racing and life well lived, came with us. No one but us expected to make it to the top. Truthfully, we had our own doubts about halfway up, looking at the shrubs and stumps we had passed, trying not to misplace our footing on ground that pulled us away. Halfway up, I saw what was to be lost on the steep slope, and it scared me. A boy who couldn’t walk climb a dune? it seemed so trite. So inexplicable that my young mind wanted to make it a reality more than anything. My father made it possible. 

I remember reaching the top and feeling more a sense of closure than a sense of accomplishment. My dad, grandfather and I had done what we had set out to do. We sat in exhausted awe at the top of Warren Dune’s peak and watched the blue of Lake Michigan surround us like it never truly had. We counted stumps and jutting driftwood on the way up, using each one as a rallying point, the.next brass ring. “One more stump.” “Let’s get to that piece of wood up there.” “Only one more stick to go. We can’t stop now!” I remember reveling in those sticks at the top. Looking down at all the bramble we had passed along the way, including a stick jutting out of the very top where we collapsed for for a few minutes, admiring what us crazy and foolish men were able to do. My grandfather laying on the sand, a giant smile upon his giant face as he breathed heavily through dirt speckled beard. My wonderful father, whose sweaty limbs had hauled me up, sat with a hand on my shoulder, staring at the lake with a glimmer of light I hadn’t quite seen before. He was reveling in the moment just as much as the rest of us. We had done something spectacular, were all proud of ourselves and ecstatic about each other. We were men doing the impossible together, and the marble of sky and freshwater sea was our reward. 

I felt all that yesterday. I felt the fear as I spun my mini-tank around on the incline, feeling the gravity of waves seemingly pulling me downward. A crease in sand causing my stomach to sink for a millisecond, thinking I would flip. Looking at my path of sticks and stones, I checked my battery at each imposed stop, making my confidence grow each time. My dad walked beside me this time, more confident than ever, Not weighted down by my own body, the only thing he had to do was to push my head into the belief that I could. And did it I did. 

The first time at the peak, it was about a community. What was possible when family was together. With my grandfather passed and no longer requiring my dad’s legs, this end was about something else entirely. This end was about me overcoming adversity on my own. While my father was with me, he was there as a friend and guide instead of the ultimate end to a means. I had the ability, I had the technology. I had control. 

In the past end, I had felt a community of three. A community of friends and family who would be willing to help me climb mountains. The first end was awesome.

This end felt the same, but on a much greater scale. The sense of accomplishment was connected to the water., the sand, the sticks, the trackchair beneath me, my father beside me, my mother and grandmother down below and everyone else who has ever been there for me because I, Luke Durling, had climbed the mountain by myself. 

We often think about endings as lonely things, points that have to be endured by our solitude, frustration and chaos. While some are indeed depressing, most are the exact opposite. Endings are times for growth and connection as much as they are for loss and redemption. So often do we ignore the tender endings. A kiss or embrace after a long reunion. A bold decision finally realized. Finding the next step or spark in life. Moving on into the wondrous unknown with our heads held high. These are all ends that shape who we are and what we become, We end ourselves each time we sleep and begin again no matter what happens to us in the future. Sometimes, we live the same end over and over again, not realizing that we have a new beginning on the horizon. 

I got the tremendous blessing of having two different endings on the same, sandy peak, each being one I’m glad I never went without, despite never wanting each one to end in the first place.

Welcome the World of Tomorrow, for it will never truly end.