I just had a birthday this past Pearl Harbor Day 2016. My lovely co-workers surprised me with a birthday cake as we stood outside during our meeting at an ambient temperature of <10F. Although, who cared what the temperature was?!?! I had birthday cake, mofos!Lots and lots of posts on Facebook regaled me with birthday wishes and cutesy little memes and collages of my errant ways. What really stuck out to me was how many people wished me an adventurous day or how one of many persons had put it: hope you find something to hike, bike, or climb today!
Carefree as I can be (I have eaten M&M’s off the dirt before…what?!), pushy as I can be (a friend told me once that I would make a great coach; that was her nice way of saying I sucked as an instructor), and infectious as I can be (I am a total expert at puppy dog eyes), I still have to give myself a pep talk. All the time, each and every time. What they don’t know is that I find it hard to adventure a lot of times. People say how they wish they had my level of commitment, but it’s a commitment to be committed.
I sometimes plan things ahead of time and talk to people about what I have in store for that weekend or the next. I’m super stoked as the days roll on like an anti-perspirant over a pit (haha, get it?). I have everything laid out the night before, checking things to make sure they work, making sure I have extra batteries, double checking my driving directions and then securing things up in my pack. The more important items left on top or within easy reach. I lie my head down on my pillow knowing the next time I wake, I’ll be off on a new adventure!
I’m up before the alarm goes off and I have this nagging feeling. I’m going off into the woods by myself and it’s hunting season. What if I’m mistaken for a deer? What if I get shot? What if I get lost? (Which on this particular day, I did.) The mall and a day of shopping starts to sound really good at this point. And then, I get mad. I am absolutely raging at myself as to how much of a wimp I can be and how disappointed I would be if the day finishes and I haven’t spent any time pounding the off-beaten track and making like John Muir! Or like Rebecca Rusch?
Call me schizo at this point, it’s okay and I’ll still love you in a crazy way, but to miss out on this cool restful shady world with light filtering lazily through the tree tops, the smell of that old decayed log, long softened by rot and spotted with moss, the captivatingly upbeat songs of the insects, and the feeling of mindfulness that comes when satisfying my numinous ways. Why would I want to miss out on that?
So, I tell that nagging voice to SHUT IT! I feel I am the better for doing so and I would love to know how you contend with your negativity. Do you banter back and forth with your doppelganger, promise yourself that sought-after cookie at the finish line, or give in more times than not?
Much love and Aloha,
your my spirit animal is Clint Eastwood clueless wanderer