Many of us were so adventurous in youth. That’s the time you’re supposed to be, no? That’s when you set sail for distant shores, your sights on the horizon, the wind in your sails, standing on the bow, yelling, “I’m king of the world!” which many attribute to the movie Titanic but was famously said decades earlier by Muhammed Ali. Talk about adventure—the man never met one he didn’t embrace fully. But of course, that’s a different story 🙂
You might not have taken on the world heavyweight champs or stood on the Titanic’s bow, but metaphorically I sure hope you did. Because life evens out soon enough (flattens out, if you’re not careful), and in that time of youth, you are allowed, even expected, to sign on for some distant safari.
I did. More than once. Insanely, so many people said (ah, family, we cherish them, no?). And while more than one of those resulted in bruises and scrapes, I survived. And wouldn’t take a million dollars for one minute of them.
I did one of those life-changing things in my late twenties. Went from a corporate executive and moved to the hinterlands onto the farm, in order to write. Made almost zero money. Grew my own food (literally!). Shelled pecans I picked and brewed my own beer to give as gifts when shopping was out of the question.
Ah! What a fabulous thing! Changed the entire course of my life, drastically, irrevocably. Wondrously.
During that time I met a sculptor, and up’n moved to Montana. Bless his heart, the sculptor was a sweet boy but it was the wilds of Montana that sang to me that siren song, luring me straight up there. Didn’t work out with the boy, but how I loved the land. And some of my best short fiction (indeed, my favorite story I’ve written) came from there (see the Montana stories, being published soon!).
Funny how things come about, no? I have to confess it was in large part Lonesome Dove the miniseries that set that up! Ah, a better fictional tale on TV has never been . . . As Gus and Call’s buddy Jake returns to talk them into driving a herd to Montana, Call finally says to Gus, let’s go. Let’s go see a wild place while it still exists.
The lure of it was too much for our heroes to pass up. And, for me as well.
Adventure of course doesn’t have to be uprooting and moving to the mountains. It comes in many forms, and sings in a litany of tunes. But it’s there, no matter what your age, if you have eyes to see.
It doesn’t always involve travel, although to this day I crisscross the country in my van, filled with Labradors, ostensibly to a specialty show. But side roads beckon me off the main highways. And I take them. The Greater Denver Specialty is the end of September, and I’m entering. But as much to disappear into the mountains for a few days as to show . . . Who knows what I’ll see or who I’ll meet, and what adventures will await me there.
Some adventures, however, can be taken right where you sit. The one to paint that picture, to write the Great American Novel, to take up playing the bassoon—whatever it is you’ve longed and dreamed to do.
Does it take courage? Indeed it does—no matter what your adventure may be. No matter if climbing to Everest or sailing the seas, auditioning for The Voice or the church choir, or sitting down to begin that book . . .
But it’s the very stuff life is made of. At least, a life full and rich, luscious with ripe fruit.
What have you got to lose? Okay, nix that question! We can all enumerate ad nauseum as to why a thing shouldn’t be done.
But more importantly, what do you have to gain?
As author Anais Nin said, “Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.”
And when faced with the choice, always expand.
What adventures have you been on lately?
