Isn't there something about making God laugh? I like making people laugh. Love to listen to them, to see a smile light up a face. Except I haven't (yet) divined the face in the sky, so making God chuckle at my foolhardiness may be preemptive on my part.
How do I see the next ten years of my life?
Hard to say. I count myself in a period of uncertainty (so that at times, I count one, at times three. A million? Am I?). And so planning the next ten years seems particularly absurd. Still, for the love of 
I find answers in fractals.
For the next ten years, I hold no particular plan other than to continue growing. However that may look, because I think growth can take many forms, but none of them outside of love. So one (faber-ghost) plan is to nurture the love and the interstices in which love exists for me. I'm starting to learn the richness of love, as I mentioned, and while I don't know for sure what I mean to do with myself, of myself, I know I plan to do it in love. Not with other people only, but with life. I want to foster a life that has me loving my morning rituals and my afternoon routines. My adventures and my rest-head-pillow laziness. I think that's how you grow. By following the things that feed your soul.
So I plan to do that. And in order to do that, I need at my side my intuition. To feed my eyes on carrot sticks and right pathways that remind me the inner voice in my head can and should be trusted. I plan to keep writing, since my intuition needs my creativity to stay sharp and active. One of the plans closest to my heart is to not allow my creative spirit to fall dormant. There is always a risk of that, isn't there? Even for those of us who labor and sweat in the pursuit of art. Always a risk. I am wary of risks, so I can take them knowingly. Like rules that warrant breaking.
My plan for the next decade of life is to develop keen hunter instincts, so I can gather to my soul a life of meaning and richness. Inner. I only care to have enough to feed myself and mine. To go on the occasional adventure. The rest, the Bugattis and the piles of clothes, others can keep. I trust them to keep them better than I could.
My next years will be ones of adventures big and small, and ultimately, redefined. I don't think there are actions that fall inside (and outside) the "adventure" paradigm. Merely eyes that need readjustment.
I hope to continue traveling because I find it feeds the soul and the spirit in a way that few things can. I hope to swim in the sea at least once a year, though hopefully once a day. I hope to have children of my own because life lived in service of yourself alone is no life at all.
I plan to remain where I am now, in the sense that I will keep my creative eye open and listen to my gut as I grow. At the same time, I plan to move so far from where I am right now. Not because I don't like it. On the contrary, I am so happy with who I am, with where I am. It's painful to think I must eventually leave this place, but there is no other choice, is there?
I can't stay here and stay happy. I must change and I must look for people who view me as ever-changing. Who rather than attempt to stifle or define me as this or that, mine or yours, allow me to grow and find ways in which we can (as they grow also) live together.
If you had asked me a couple years back, I would've had more concrete plans for you. Travel to Wales. To Peru. Move to London. Write three bestsellers. If I answered thus now, I would only situate myself a couple years back (and doesn't life throw you enough setbacks and curveballs, already?).
I've come to think that while it helps to plan, fluidity and the right practices help more. So for the next ten years, that is what I'm trying to do.
Grow.
Love.
Create.
Is that a corny #MemoirMonday response? If so, I apologize. It was what I was feeling at the time I saw the question. Somebody should really put a filter on my fingers. But until they do...