The act of creating a personal myth is a careful recipe:
- one part hutzpah
- two parts suspension of disbelief
- many parts alcohol, bonhomie, and charm (the mirepoix of myth!)
- half-part right time
- half-part right place
And then you transcend this human plane.
If you are lucky, someone or something, keeps you tethered to this earth, to reality. If you are not, you become more myth than man, more Odysseus than loving parent, more fiction than fact.
I wish you all the luck to be found in this world. Ascend, transcend, but do come back down to earth – it gets lonely up there.