Historically, I am not a fan of roller coasters, or any amusement part ride for that matter. Not because I'm afraid of heights or motion or spinning, I think all those things are great. My real problem with them is that I'm not in control. I'm strapped into this thing that is going to hurtle me through the air at its own whim.
The thing is, that's a little bit like life. I try my hardest to be in control of what's happening, to schedule out my day and provide for my family. But every time I think that I have even the most tenuous grasp on what is going on, I am reminded of how little control I actually have over my life. I can do my best to lean into the turns and ride the highs, but the lows still come, if not a little bit faster and more furious than I would have chosen.
If the lack of control weren't enough to turn me away from such rides, in comes a new challenger. Space Mountain. Here you can't even see the turns coming, you just have to wait and see what is going to be thrown at you next. You can cling to the railing and wait for it to be over, or you can let it toss you, even revel in the fact that you have no idea where you are, where you're going, and when it'll be over. It's the purest form of living in the moment that I can think of.
You're there, you're moving, you might as well enjoy it.
Sure, life would make more sense if you could see what's coming next, but would it be as fulfilling? I could argue that my life would be better if I could see the future. Maybe it would give me a sense of security, or give me time to prepare for storms ahead, but it would remove all the other stuff that helps us mature. I wouldn't be able to practice patience, trust, humility, or faith.
No, I can't see if it's a turn or dip ahead, but my hands are up.
Bring it on.