Remember when you used to do dumb things? Perhaps I should elaborate. With more life experiences, do you find yourself taking the safe route in life? Don’t leave the job you hate because you have bills to pay. Don’t go dancing because people will laugh at you. Don’t try new foods because you might not like them. Don’t take up a new hobby because you’re too old to start something new. Now, what if you decided that you wanted to try something new? What if you decided that being happy and really living your life is what mattered more than anything? Can you imagine what your new version of life would be like?
When I am in a super happy mood I find that I want to try new things. I might experiment with cooking a new meal (yes, I am an avid cook. You’d think I would be posting more recipes). I might seek out new restaurants (hmmm…food again). I might start drawing pictures (yes, you have seen some of my phenomenal artwork here). However, when I get in a “reality” slump, I find my creative juices are suddenly bone dry. The flow has ebbed and disappeared. I cook the same boring meals. I would rather stay home than venture out in public. Nothing seems right. How do I get out of this funk? I literally wish it away.
I will actually say something like this out loud, “I wish I would get out of this funk. Please help me out.” Yup, it sounds silly but it works every time. Suddenly, something or someone will cross my path to pull me out of my boring world. I become invigorated! It could be a funny little piglet video. It could be a child doing something so silly that it reminds me not to take life so seriously. I recently experienced this funk and I was lucky to have someone put things in perspective for me.
I am not sure if I have mentioned this before, but my hubby has wonky knees. He has fine chicken legs (haha), but his knees are really only being held in place by the skin surrounding them. This is the sad news. His knees will sometimes buckle and down he goes for the count. This past Saturday, a knee gave out, my man fell down hard, his knee swelled like a balloon. We were planning on having a lovely evening at a family wedding with the hopes of dancing. Bad knee = no dancing. Right? I, apparently, was wrong.
When the music began, Wiseguy looked over at me, raised his eyebrows in the universal signal for, “shall we?” to which I replied: “NO!” Not once. Not twice. I refused him 8 times! So, he got up and went to ask someone else to dance. I sat in my chair and steamed and stewed and grumbled. Why?! His stupid knee was busted and now he was going to make it worse! What an idiot!! Oh yes, that was the nicest word I used of the choicest I had for him at that particular moment. I did not want to hear about the pain for the following days and weeks because he had decided to dance. After a few turns on the floor he left the hall and his cohort in crime came over to me and, with a grin, asked “Who died?” At this point I spewed my anger about his absurd desire to dance and wreck his knee even more. I thought she would agree with me and my logic. Nope. She had a different explanation.
“Let me tell you a story,” she began. “About 10 years ago I recall being at a banquet and everyone was dancing. One man suddenly collapsed to the floor. Someone tried resuscitating him, but it was too late. He was gone.” My eyes bugged out, my mouth dropped open. “So, you see,” she continued, “we love to dance and will die doing it.” Then she got up and went back to her seat at the table. That was the moral of the story? Die dancing?
Hmmm, that got me the thinking. Hubby wasn’t trying to make his knee worse. He was looking to enjoy dancing while he still could. How long would his knees last? How long until he would no longer be able to bust a move? My foul mood was changing. The clouds were lifting and my happy disposition was returning. I went in search of my dance partner. We danced the rest of the evening and part way into the morning.
How were his knees after all the festivities? Not good. There was a hospital visit in there too. Does he regret dancing? Never. Would he do it again? In a heartbeat. Why? He loves to dance and he will keep tearing up the dance floor no matter what the consequences the next day.
We are told to live every day as if it’s our last, but plan as if we shall live forever. We seem to get the latter part right, but the first part seems too unreal for us to even consider. Living life to the fullest oftentimes means leaving our comfort zone and trying new things. Go on a trip where you have never been before. Take classes in stuff that interest you. Even better, think about things that people used to say you weren’t good enough to do, but you loved, and go ahead and do them! You will be so happy that you did! Don’t look back on your life with regret. No matter how foolish you might think you look, you will know in your heart that you were brave enough to break out and really live! Worst case scenario? If it’s your thing…you could die dancing.