What foolish soul would equate sipping bourbon to a wider exploration of what it means to be a human being. Well, foolishly, I would.
I can claim little in the way of wisdom for myself, mostly because I have none. Nor can I claim an exquisite palate for bourbon, or indeed for any other gustatory experience.
What I might legitimately claim is a kind of curiosity. Curiosity that can quickly be dismissed as either unimportant, or worse, perverse, depending upon one's point of view.
Still, I claim it.
As I write, I sip a unique bourbon, the 10 year old Ancient Age. It strikes my palate as unique, containing elements that I find very hard to describe that set it somewhat apart. I am not the only one to find this particular bourbon exceptional. our own bunghole always found favor with it. And, he knows a lot about bourbon.
What a jump, from bourbon to human character, huh?
What I would like to know (in all honesty) is how anyone who loves bourbon, and loves life, could find room to separate them.
Bourbon, like life, offers great risks, neither is there to be conquered, in fact cannot be conquered. They lie in wait to be revealed, not to be owned, much less to be conquered. Leaving bourbon alone may be wise when it is your enemy, but it is not to be conquered. Life cannot be conquered, nor left alone, nor is it to be accommodated. It is merely to be lived.
Bourbon is to be tasted, like life, in its great variety, and managed.