I’m approaching the mid-point of my thirties this year.
And I have no idea what I’m doing. Still.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve accomplished a good bit. And I have a semi-idea of how to proceed to make sure the lights stay on. To make sure that I can afford to feed and clothe myself.
Went to school. Got the doctorate. Did the training after school. Got the “dream” job.
I look into the horizon and I sometimes feel like the thing that I most need is the exact opposite of what’s in front of me.
The older you get the more that the world tries to imply that you should avoid discomfort and risk. We look down at people who are still figuring it out publicly at an older age. The 40 year old rapper is admired by exactly zero people. And while I can’t comment on the viability of that plan, I can say that I admire people who are willing to swing wildly, enthusiastically and intently at life.
I grew up in a immigrant household, whose whole life was built on decreasing the amount of risk that was inherent in their decision to leave their home country and build stable lives in America.
They tried to decrease any tendency towards risk-taking by encouraging all of us to take “stable” jobs in “stable” industries. As we are all finding out, the future is no respecter of the past. Change is happening so fast, there is no guarantee that the stable jobs of yesteryear will continue into the next decade.
Also, somewhat unrelatedly,
Risk is a part of life.
I think this pressure to avoid risk is what slowly kills men in relationships.
I’m not advocating for unnecessary and unsafe risk. But, I am confident that men die inside if the opportunity for adventure is stolen from them.
And it may not be actively taken, it may be something that we give up because we think the people who surround us are asking us to give up that part of ourselves.
There has to be a way to ensure that adventure remains a part of our lives.
Let me speak for myself.
I know I need to find ways to challenge myself daily, weekly, yearly.
fly or fall,