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Life Is Only As Adventurous As You Make It
I have some somewhat younger, but still not "kids"-younger, coworkers at my retail store. One of them is even an assistant manager, so she's above me in the hierarchy.
Often, some kind of subject comes up, in which I can say something like "oh, I've done that", or "I know how to do that", or "I used to have a job doing that", or whatever. My coworkers, the manager in particular, boggle at how many different kinds of things I've done in my life. She frequently asks me "is there *anything* you *haven't* done?!" She says so with obvious envy and has expressed a desire to have accomplished more in her life so far.
So I tell her, which is what I want to tell everyone, that if there is something you always wanted to do (and you have no near-impossible barrier such as medical condition or lack of funds), just go out and do it.
The reason why I have "done it all" is because, every time I need another job, I take a job in an industry I've never tried before. I've been officially working since I was 12 years old (like, taking-out-taxes kind of job), and unofficially working since I was physically strong enough to push a lawn-mower (but still too short to see over it - I had to hold my hands above my head and peer through the handle).
Then, when I say that an activity sounds like fun, I either do it, or I admit out loud that I'd like to but I'm not willing to make it a priority.
Do you know how many people tell me how exciting learning how to dance sounds, and how they'd love to get all dressed up and go out more often? Do you know how many of them actually do it when I present them with opportunities literally daily to fit into their schedule and I offer free dance lessons and to go shopping with them to help them find appropriate shoes and attire?
I'll tell you, the numbers aren't even overlapping Venn Diagrams. I've had one, count them ONE, partner who did not know how to dance, expressed an interest, and actually committed to learning, not just attended *a class* with me once and then gave up because of "time conflicts".
Unfortunately, we were not together long enough after that for him to become really proficient and I no longer speak to him so I don't know if he kept it up after the breakup. So, even counting him as a partner who "stuck with it" is being generous. And if I can't even get partners to learn to do a thing they express an interest in, that should tell you my success rate at getting anyone else to learn to do a thing.
(Also, I've only ever dated one person who was a dancer before meeting me, and we only danced 3 times in the 2 years we were together. Franklin has learned how to dance since we started dating, but it wasn't because of me. He resisted learning when I tried to teach him, so I gave up because I don't like to feel like I'm pressuring people and it took another decade and him moving across the country away from me to finally discover an interest in dance.)
So, here are my coworkers, with eyes wide and mouths open, awestruck at all the things I've done. And I don't feel particularly accomplished - I've never traveled outside of the country, for instance (although that will finally change this summer), and for all the jobs I've held and skills I've acquired, I'm still poor as fuck.
But I decided as a child that I needed to learn things. So I did. And I decided as a young adult that I needed to face the things I was afraid of, so I do. I take jobs that I have no experience in because they sound fun. I created a social group to try new restaurants that we've never been to, just because. I know far too many people who are afraid of food.
When someone says "I do a thing" and I think "that sounds like fun!", I make a point to try and do that thing with them (assuming they're the kind of passionate fan who likes to share their passions with friends). Because of this, I have SO MANY interests and hobbies and things to do! I can't even remember the last time I felt bored outside of being forced to be in a particular location where I couldn't access any of my interests (like at work with no internet). I have vague memories of being a teen and older child who had long stretches of boredom. I can't remember what that's like.
These days, my boredom is more about frustration that there are so many things to do but I can't get to them.
I recently pointed out some really long RV that I liked, and someone else said "wow, I can't drive something that big!". And because of my reaction, I had to reflect on this a bit. When he said "I can't drive that", everything in me just kind of froze, like he had started speaking a different language. I couldn't process what he just said. What do you mean you can't drive it? You can drive a car. This is just a big car.
But before I said something out loud, I wondered at my inability to process what he said. I realized that I drove a 40-foot school bus when I was in my twenties because it never occurred to me that I couldn't drive one. I can drive a car. In fact, I can drive a manual transmission vehicle and most RVs are automatic transmission. So the idea that I couldn't drive something simply because it's longer than my current vehicle ... does not compute.
So that's what I said to him - you can drive a car. You can drive a van. You can drive a vehicle up to 20 feet, so you can therefore also drive a vehicle up to 30 feet (the size of the RV I was commenting on), you just need to practice and learn it's longer size.
He was quite dubious. And I realized how fortunate I am that it just doesn't occur to me that I can't do things unless I've actually tried it, or similar, and discovered that I can't do it. I extrapolate - I can do this other thing, so of course I should be able to learn how to do this other thing that is like it, if I want to put in the effort to learn it.
I think a lot of people start out with the assumption that they can't do a thing, and that's what stops them. I start out with the assumption that I *can* do a thing, so I need a good reason to be stopped from doing the thing. Not being interested in trying it is one good reason. Not having the money to do it is another. Having a full plate of other awesome things is yet another. But being afraid? Assuming that I can't just because I never have? Not good reasons.
So, there are occasionally times when I think "that sounds like fun!" but I don't make a point to try it. But then, if I've expressed an interest in the thing out loud, I will immediately follow it up with something along the lines of "but I have so many other things I'm interested in, that I don't want to take the time to add another one, because I want to accomplish the tasks I have waiting for me from my other interests first."
Mostly, what I get from people is:
"I'd love to learn how to dance!"
"That's great! I'm happy to give some lessons, or here are a list of studios and events with cheap or free lessons."
"Oh, well, see, I don't have a lot of time, because I work 40 hours a week, and then there's that whole eating dinner thing at night, and the new episode of Game of Thrones is coming out! So, sure, I'll go to a lesson. Sometime. Just let me know!"
"Well, how about a lesson right now?"
"Oh, uh, I dunno, I don't think I can right now, uh, hey, is someone calling my name?"
My point is that it's OK if you're not interested in a thing, or if you have other priorities. Own that. But if you are interested in things, and you feel any kind of envy over people who do interesting things, then you have to make a priority to go do interesting things.
Most of the time, people who seem interesting and exciting and who do lots of neat things don't have those neat things just fall into their laps. We make it a priority to go do those things. If you want to be like those people, even just a little bit, you have to do what we do - go out and do things. You have to challenge yourself, you have to do what frightens you, you have to just jump in and do it.
Nobody was good at any of the things we do the first time. True, some of us had a little more natural talent than others, which made learning it less arduous. But that's OK, I'm not talking about being *good* at things, I'm talking about *having experiences*. We weren't good at things right away, and we were often nervous or frightened too.
And I'm still terrible at a lot of the things I do. I'm like the worst bowler, for instance, but I still go bowling whenever I meet someone who likes it and is willing to prioritize going out and doing it. Because it's not about being good at things, it's about having experiences. I find a lot of things "fun" that I'm not particularly good at, so I make a point to find the "fun" part to be the important part, not the "good at" part.
But, the thing is, once you do a new thing, the next new thing is easier to do. And the next new thing after that is even easier to do.
I learned how to rock climb on actual mountains in the Santa Cruz mountains when I was in high school. I met a guy who I liked who was a rock climber with all his own gear. So he took me to a good beginner rock that had rappel points installed at the top. We walked up the backside of the rock, which had a nice but steep hiking trail. He hooked me up into my harness, explained things to me, got me all safetyed in and attached to the point, and then said "go".
I stood on the edge of that rock and looked down. It was terrifying. It was a sharp cliff edge and a straight rock face so that all I saw was the edge of rock and the ground many, many feet below me.
He said "no, you face backwards, stand with your heels hanging over the edge, hold onto your rope, and just lean back until you are horizontal to the ground. Then you just ... jump."
It was the scariest thing I had ever done up to that point. What do you mean, you just lean backwards over the edge of a cliff?!? Are you fucking out of your mind?! And then you jump?!!!?
"Yes, you jump straight 'up', which is actually sideways because you're horizontal. You push off the side of the rock and away from it, letting some of the rope out as you go so that you kind of arc down. You will swing back towards the rock, so then when your feet touch, you bend your knees to cushion the impact and prepare for the next jump, like your legs are spring coils. Then you push off again, letting out more rope as you go so that you arc down a little further."
It took me a long time to trust my rope. But I did. I stood on the edge of that cliff, and I leaned backwards until I was horizontal to the ground, like a trick photography shot where someone is standing on the side of a building as if the side was the floor. That leaning backwards part was the hardest part. Once I was actually horizontal, the jumping part was much easier.
And then I learned the joy of flying.
My first rappel bounce was the most exhilarating experience I had ever had. It was like a giant swing for grown-ups, in the most beautiful setting in the world. I zoomed down that mountainside, learning my limits, feeling how much rope I should let out and how fast to achieve the perfect-to-me arc that gave me just the right amount of soaring and falling.
I felt like this was what I was meant to do.
This is my analogy for trying new things, not a story meant to convince you that all trying of new things results in fabulous, exciting, wonderful experiences.
It's scary to try new things. It's like that first step of leaning backwards over a cliff - you don't know what's going to happen, you've never done this before so you have no reason to trust that your safety rope will hold you, and you don't know if you'll like it or if you'll fall to your death on the rocky ground below.
But after I touched down from my first rappel, I ran back up the backside of the mountain to do it again. I hooked up to the point, I leaned over backwards, but this time, I knew that my rope would hold me. It was still terrifying, but like a roller coaster that I knew I would survive. So I leaned backwards much more comfortably and I much more quickly took my first jump out into the open space.
Once I tried a new thing and learned that I didn't die from it, the next time I tried a new thing was less terrifying. Still frightening, but manageable. I could deal with the nerves by telling myself that I had already done this and lived to tell the tale, and what a tale it was! So worth it! Maybe this time will be worth it too.
The more times I tried something new and didn't die from it, the easier it became to try new things after that, even though, by definition, they were things I had never tried so I couldn't know if I would like the experience or not.
There is still risk. People still die from rock climbing and rappelling accidents, for instance. I even met the guy who wrote a book, and then had a movie made about it, who had to cut off his own hand to escape being trapped by a boulder during a foolish solo hike and rock climbing trip. This doesn't mean that either rock climbing or trying new things is always safe just because the last time I tried it, I didn't die.
But it means that being afraid is not a good enough reason to not try something that I otherwise want to do.
And there are some things that I think sound exciting but that I definitely do not want to try. Sky diving, for instance - not my thing. But I know lots of people who like it and I know I probably won't die from it. But I'm not going to do it. I own that. I don't tell people that I want to try it, and then never commit to prioritizing it.
I also work in a craft store and I'm surrounded by all kinds of fun-looking projects that I will never get around to trying. Again, I have lots of interests that I'm passionate about, so I am making a deliberate choice not to prioritize yet another new craft because I want to spend my time on the ones I have already started and love. I own that too.
But if something sounds fun, and I have no medical or health reason or financial barrier to prevent me, and someone is standing right there offering me the benefit of their expertise, experience, and guidance into that world, I will take it.
And that's why I have coworkers in their mid-twenties who are shocked and amazed at all the things I have experienced in my life, who have said that they've only had this one job and no hobbies and feel like they have not accomplished anything in their own lives - I made a commitment *to myself* to have experiences, and they have not. I made it a priority to try interesting things, so I have become an interesting person. They have not made it a priority to try interesting things, so they feel that they are not interesting people.
This is a problem with a solution.
If it sounds interesting to you, try it. No excuses (reasons, like health or money, sure, but no *excuses*). Commit to leaning over that cliff. Prioritize putting your heels out over the edge, holding onto that rope, and just pushing off. It will get easier each successive time you try it, I promise. Maybe only incrementally, but trying new things does get easier the more new things you try.
Often, some kind of subject comes up, in which I can say something like "oh, I've done that", or "I know how to do that", or "I used to have a job doing that", or whatever. My coworkers, the manager in particular, boggle at how many different kinds of things I've done in my life. She frequently asks me "is there *anything* you *haven't* done?!" She says so with obvious envy and has expressed a desire to have accomplished more in her life so far.
So I tell her, which is what I want to tell everyone, that if there is something you always wanted to do (and you have no near-impossible barrier such as medical condition or lack of funds), just go out and do it.
The reason why I have "done it all" is because, every time I need another job, I take a job in an industry I've never tried before. I've been officially working since I was 12 years old (like, taking-out-taxes kind of job), and unofficially working since I was physically strong enough to push a lawn-mower (but still too short to see over it - I had to hold my hands above my head and peer through the handle).
Then, when I say that an activity sounds like fun, I either do it, or I admit out loud that I'd like to but I'm not willing to make it a priority.
Do you know how many people tell me how exciting learning how to dance sounds, and how they'd love to get all dressed up and go out more often? Do you know how many of them actually do it when I present them with opportunities literally daily to fit into their schedule and I offer free dance lessons and to go shopping with them to help them find appropriate shoes and attire?I'll tell you, the numbers aren't even overlapping Venn Diagrams. I've had one, count them ONE, partner who did not know how to dance, expressed an interest, and actually committed to learning, not just attended *a class* with me once and then gave up because of "time conflicts".
Unfortunately, we were not together long enough after that for him to become really proficient and I no longer speak to him so I don't know if he kept it up after the breakup. So, even counting him as a partner who "stuck with it" is being generous. And if I can't even get partners to learn to do a thing they express an interest in, that should tell you my success rate at getting anyone else to learn to do a thing.
(Also, I've only ever dated one person who was a dancer before meeting me, and we only danced 3 times in the 2 years we were together. Franklin has learned how to dance since we started dating, but it wasn't because of me. He resisted learning when I tried to teach him, so I gave up because I don't like to feel like I'm pressuring people and it took another decade and him moving across the country away from me to finally discover an interest in dance.)
So, here are my coworkers, with eyes wide and mouths open, awestruck at all the things I've done. And I don't feel particularly accomplished - I've never traveled outside of the country, for instance (although that will finally change this summer), and for all the jobs I've held and skills I've acquired, I'm still poor as fuck.
But I decided as a child that I needed to learn things. So I did. And I decided as a young adult that I needed to face the things I was afraid of, so I do. I take jobs that I have no experience in because they sound fun. I created a social group to try new restaurants that we've never been to, just because. I know far too many people who are afraid of food.
When someone says "I do a thing" and I think "that sounds like fun!", I make a point to try and do that thing with them (assuming they're the kind of passionate fan who likes to share their passions with friends). Because of this, I have SO MANY interests and hobbies and things to do! I can't even remember the last time I felt bored outside of being forced to be in a particular location where I couldn't access any of my interests (like at work with no internet). I have vague memories of being a teen and older child who had long stretches of boredom. I can't remember what that's like.
These days, my boredom is more about frustration that there are so many things to do but I can't get to them.
I recently pointed out some really long RV that I liked, and someone else said "wow, I can't drive something that big!". And because of my reaction, I had to reflect on this a bit. When he said "I can't drive that", everything in me just kind of froze, like he had started speaking a different language. I couldn't process what he just said. What do you mean you can't drive it? You can drive a car. This is just a big car.
But before I said something out loud, I wondered at my inability to process what he said. I realized that I drove a 40-foot school bus when I was in my twenties because it never occurred to me that I couldn't drive one. I can drive a car. In fact, I can drive a manual transmission vehicle and most RVs are automatic transmission. So the idea that I couldn't drive something simply because it's longer than my current vehicle ... does not compute.So that's what I said to him - you can drive a car. You can drive a van. You can drive a vehicle up to 20 feet, so you can therefore also drive a vehicle up to 30 feet (the size of the RV I was commenting on), you just need to practice and learn it's longer size.
He was quite dubious. And I realized how fortunate I am that it just doesn't occur to me that I can't do things unless I've actually tried it, or similar, and discovered that I can't do it. I extrapolate - I can do this other thing, so of course I should be able to learn how to do this other thing that is like it, if I want to put in the effort to learn it.
I think a lot of people start out with the assumption that they can't do a thing, and that's what stops them. I start out with the assumption that I *can* do a thing, so I need a good reason to be stopped from doing the thing. Not being interested in trying it is one good reason. Not having the money to do it is another. Having a full plate of other awesome things is yet another. But being afraid? Assuming that I can't just because I never have? Not good reasons.
So, there are occasionally times when I think "that sounds like fun!" but I don't make a point to try it. But then, if I've expressed an interest in the thing out loud, I will immediately follow it up with something along the lines of "but I have so many other things I'm interested in, that I don't want to take the time to add another one, because I want to accomplish the tasks I have waiting for me from my other interests first."
Mostly, what I get from people is:
"I'd love to learn how to dance!"
"That's great! I'm happy to give some lessons, or here are a list of studios and events with cheap or free lessons."
"Oh, well, see, I don't have a lot of time, because I work 40 hours a week, and then there's that whole eating dinner thing at night, and the new episode of Game of Thrones is coming out! So, sure, I'll go to a lesson. Sometime. Just let me know!"
"Well, how about a lesson right now?"
"Oh, uh, I dunno, I don't think I can right now, uh, hey, is someone calling my name?"
My point is that it's OK if you're not interested in a thing, or if you have other priorities. Own that. But if you are interested in things, and you feel any kind of envy over people who do interesting things, then you have to make a priority to go do interesting things.
Most of the time, people who seem interesting and exciting and who do lots of neat things don't have those neat things just fall into their laps. We make it a priority to go do those things. If you want to be like those people, even just a little bit, you have to do what we do - go out and do things. You have to challenge yourself, you have to do what frightens you, you have to just jump in and do it.
Nobody was good at any of the things we do the first time. True, some of us had a little more natural talent than others, which made learning it less arduous. But that's OK, I'm not talking about being *good* at things, I'm talking about *having experiences*. We weren't good at things right away, and we were often nervous or frightened too.
And I'm still terrible at a lot of the things I do. I'm like the worst bowler, for instance, but I still go bowling whenever I meet someone who likes it and is willing to prioritize going out and doing it. Because it's not about being good at things, it's about having experiences. I find a lot of things "fun" that I'm not particularly good at, so I make a point to find the "fun" part to be the important part, not the "good at" part.
But, the thing is, once you do a new thing, the next new thing is easier to do. And the next new thing after that is even easier to do.
I learned how to rock climb on actual mountains in the Santa Cruz mountains when I was in high school. I met a guy who I liked who was a rock climber with all his own gear. So he took me to a good beginner rock that had rappel points installed at the top. We walked up the backside of the rock, which had a nice but steep hiking trail. He hooked me up into my harness, explained things to me, got me all safetyed in and attached to the point, and then said "go".
I stood on the edge of that rock and looked down. It was terrifying. It was a sharp cliff edge and a straight rock face so that all I saw was the edge of rock and the ground many, many feet below me.
He said "no, you face backwards, stand with your heels hanging over the edge, hold onto your rope, and just lean back until you are horizontal to the ground. Then you just ... jump."
It was the scariest thing I had ever done up to that point. What do you mean, you just lean backwards over the edge of a cliff?!? Are you fucking out of your mind?! And then you jump?!!!?
"Yes, you jump straight 'up', which is actually sideways because you're horizontal. You push off the side of the rock and away from it, letting some of the rope out as you go so that you kind of arc down. You will swing back towards the rock, so then when your feet touch, you bend your knees to cushion the impact and prepare for the next jump, like your legs are spring coils. Then you push off again, letting out more rope as you go so that you arc down a little further."
It took me a long time to trust my rope. But I did. I stood on the edge of that cliff, and I leaned backwards until I was horizontal to the ground, like a trick photography shot where someone is standing on the side of a building as if the side was the floor. That leaning backwards part was the hardest part. Once I was actually horizontal, the jumping part was much easier.
And then I learned the joy of flying.
My first rappel bounce was the most exhilarating experience I had ever had. It was like a giant swing for grown-ups, in the most beautiful setting in the world. I zoomed down that mountainside, learning my limits, feeling how much rope I should let out and how fast to achieve the perfect-to-me arc that gave me just the right amount of soaring and falling.
I felt like this was what I was meant to do.This is my analogy for trying new things, not a story meant to convince you that all trying of new things results in fabulous, exciting, wonderful experiences.
It's scary to try new things. It's like that first step of leaning backwards over a cliff - you don't know what's going to happen, you've never done this before so you have no reason to trust that your safety rope will hold you, and you don't know if you'll like it or if you'll fall to your death on the rocky ground below.
But after I touched down from my first rappel, I ran back up the backside of the mountain to do it again. I hooked up to the point, I leaned over backwards, but this time, I knew that my rope would hold me. It was still terrifying, but like a roller coaster that I knew I would survive. So I leaned backwards much more comfortably and I much more quickly took my first jump out into the open space.
Once I tried a new thing and learned that I didn't die from it, the next time I tried a new thing was less terrifying. Still frightening, but manageable. I could deal with the nerves by telling myself that I had already done this and lived to tell the tale, and what a tale it was! So worth it! Maybe this time will be worth it too.
The more times I tried something new and didn't die from it, the easier it became to try new things after that, even though, by definition, they were things I had never tried so I couldn't know if I would like the experience or not.
There is still risk. People still die from rock climbing and rappelling accidents, for instance. I even met the guy who wrote a book, and then had a movie made about it, who had to cut off his own hand to escape being trapped by a boulder during a foolish solo hike and rock climbing trip. This doesn't mean that either rock climbing or trying new things is always safe just because the last time I tried it, I didn't die.
But it means that being afraid is not a good enough reason to not try something that I otherwise want to do.
And there are some things that I think sound exciting but that I definitely do not want to try. Sky diving, for instance - not my thing. But I know lots of people who like it and I know I probably won't die from it. But I'm not going to do it. I own that. I don't tell people that I want to try it, and then never commit to prioritizing it.
I also work in a craft store and I'm surrounded by all kinds of fun-looking projects that I will never get around to trying. Again, I have lots of interests that I'm passionate about, so I am making a deliberate choice not to prioritize yet another new craft because I want to spend my time on the ones I have already started and love. I own that too.
But if something sounds fun, and I have no medical or health reason or financial barrier to prevent me, and someone is standing right there offering me the benefit of their expertise, experience, and guidance into that world, I will take it.
And that's why I have coworkers in their mid-twenties who are shocked and amazed at all the things I have experienced in my life, who have said that they've only had this one job and no hobbies and feel like they have not accomplished anything in their own lives - I made a commitment *to myself* to have experiences, and they have not. I made it a priority to try interesting things, so I have become an interesting person. They have not made it a priority to try interesting things, so they feel that they are not interesting people.
This is a problem with a solution.
If it sounds interesting to you, try it. No excuses (reasons, like health or money, sure, but no *excuses*). Commit to leaning over that cliff. Prioritize putting your heels out over the edge, holding onto that rope, and just pushing off. It will get easier each successive time you try it, I promise. Maybe only incrementally, but trying new things does get easier the more new things you try.