I chase the impossible. Again and again, I press on in pursuit of my impossible dreams. So long as I believe that they are impossible, I can do them. The minute that I see that it can be done, the chase becomes somehow… banal. I love the feeling of doing the impossible. I live on that moment of brilliant potentiality, between the possible and the impossible, where I know it can’t be done, but I’m still damned sure I’m going to do it.

It taints everything I do. When I see how something works, I lose interest. If even one person says “This is impossible,” I will do it, just out of a sheer pigheaded desire to prove them wrong. The best way to goad me into something is to suggest that there is no way I can do it. Then, to prove you wrong, to push the bounds, to chase that feeling of potential, I will move heaven and earth to make it happen. In my work, in my day-to-day life, in my relationships, the impossible is the strongest driving factor.

The character of Barnum, in the musical of the same name. Billy Flynn, the lawyer in the musical Chicago. Moist von Lipwig, pushing the envelop ever forward. Flashman. They’re the characters who I draw on for inspiration.  Showmen, all mouth and no trousers. But they make things happen. They take on the impossible and they make it happen. With help, support, and more than a little bit of luck, yes. But they do it. They rush on, and the world hurries to keep up.

It makes life worth the living. That much is true. A friend commented to me yesterday that it ties in with my faith, an aspect I’ve never really seen before. To believe in the Resurrection. What’s more impossible than that. And what better showman than JC hisself, turning the water into wine, and walking on the waves. I believe there is a fantastic sketch by Rowan Atkinson on that very subject. True, but possibly not entirely relevant. I’m not entirely convinced that my religious belief is symptomatic of my belief in the impossible, rather than the other way around.

But more than that, it makes life worth dying for. Life is fragile, and nobody really knows what it is, and what takes it from the body. We are all living in that moment between alive and dead, and when it goes by, we know we were alive. But we don’t know that until it’s passed. It’s the passing of life we notice the most. And we don’t know until afterwards that we’re in the moment where it is cut off. Even there, we’re not sure.

Life worth living is easy. All life is worth living. What is important is to be able to live a life worth dying for. A life where you will fight, to the death if necessary, to keep it. A life where every conscious thought is back with “I will not die.” The ultimate impossible goal. I will not die. At the moment, I am living a life worth dying for, not just living for its own sake. Push forward. Make the world your own. Do the impossible, and live a life worth dying for.