Smile More

Many of my fondest memories of travel include sitting on park benches, in sidewalk cafes or in dimly lit hostels scribbling notes. Never (almost) without a notebook to capture whatever my limited attention considered worthy of inclusion, such as conversion rates, architectural renderings, song lyrics, translations, or dreams that one day I might force to fruition. It was a glorious combination of youth, adventure and hope. When I refer to these battle-weary notebooks, some with dust gathered over three decades ago, it always strikes me as sad. The sadness of the reality that one of those big three, youth, adventure and hope, is gone. And will never return. 

At least physically. Range of motion limited, core strength compromised, arthritic and carrying a pacemaker with more consistency than my notebooks, I face the one demon that has haunted every man since Adam. The reality of an aging body and our frail human nature of parts wearing out, the onset of disease, sickness, suffering and eventual death. Might as well accept it. Get used to the idea and negotiate an appropriate response. Deal with the facts as best I can, do something proactive and, above all, never give up. 

This is an important concept to me. It is why we train. It is why we push ourselves so hard when it would be much, much easier to simply submit to the magnetic pull of the Lazy-Boy. I have one formal, and with all due respect, firm response to the latter scenario: NO FUCKING WAY. 

If I am going down, and that is now just a matter of time, I am going down fighting. Fighting for every last bit of life I can jam into my brief time here. I have my personal, unique opportunity to do the one thing that settles all disputes, solves all mysteries and satisfies all requirements of success: I will be true to the self awareness I have created and please the spirit inside me that seeks it. Put another way, I must do what makes me satisfied with my efforts. Or in another way still, if I have but two items left of the big three, youth having fled the scene, I will bet the farm on adventure and hope. There is a lot to be said about the quality of living wide. Not long or large, but wide, as much experience as one can squeeze into one's allotted time in this magic garden of delights. 

As I remain in the afterglow of my trip to Seattle to watch and hear filmmaker Bryon Smith’s video storytelling, I culled the notes from the pocket of my Levi’s prior to washing, uncrumpled them and did a quick review to ensure I didn’t miss any important jottings. Capsulized, here are a few observations:

Consider risk/reward, success/failure ratios closer.

Generate lists of potential projects.

Adventures reveal stories.

Do something different, risky, adventurous, and…

Tell that story. 

My notes ended with the red-letter suggestion to smile more. 

Something I learned in my youth, and also something that fosters adventure and hope.