Every two years or so my mental cruise control hits a speed bump and my axles of acumen need a lube. I take my mind to the local tune up shop where it's waxed, polished and glistened with the finest repertoire of mental massage accessories. We're talking poetry, freestyling, ponderous roof top talks, journaling, ocean jumps, a chapter of "what color is my parachute", and full moon howls. It's a time of soul searching with the hope that a favorable path will be defined for which to walk the next two years.
I'm sometimes envious of those that have known exactly what field of study or realm of expertise has and will impassion them throughout their life. Other times I'm content knowing that (like when I was almost completely focused on long distance running for 10 years) my lack of commitment and focus towards one particular practice, hobby or field has exposed me to such a lush variety of treasures. These are the ruminations that lube my mental engine.