There's a place commonly referred to as the end of the world.

It's in Saugras, the southernmost tip of Portugal.

Early settlers, before the age of discovery, looked beyond the rocky cliffs,

out at the endless blue ocean and assumed there was nothing more.

This sense of isolation and mystery and intrigue culminated into the belief that it was in fact the end of the world.

I'm currently in Saugris now with my folks, where we've made our way to the edge of those rocky cliffs multiple times at sunset.

And I can say it's probably the most incredible sunset I've ever seen.

The water crashing against the massive cliffs, the teal ocean, the fiery orange sky.

Watching the sun sink below the water is nothing short of breathtaking.

The end of the world.

But of course, those early settlers were incorrect.

It was not the end of the world. It was the end of the world as they knew it.

It was the end of their reality, of their understanding.

It wasn't an end, it was a bridge to the next thing. They just didn't know it.

Sometimes I think we need to be reminded of the same, that where we stand on the edge of those

rocky cliffs in our lives, they look like an ending.

They look like, quote, the way things are.

And so very often that's what we deem them to be.

But almost always, the possibility is restricted by our own personal snapshots of reality.

We only see the world through the hole in the curtain we choose to peer through.

That ocean stretches to foreign lands.

That horizon with all its mystery and intrigue is not putting a border around the current moment.

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