Sometimes you just have to...

     I believe I am in the "What the hell?" phase in my life. Not "What the hell was that?" but, "Why the hell not?" Sometimes I just think, "What is the worst that can happen?" Well, obviously, I'm not going to die. Well, okay. I could actually die, but not if I don't do things that will put my life at risk.

     A year and a half ago I jumped out of a plane. On purpose. I put my life at risk. At that time, though, I remember thinking, "If I am supposed to die, I will. If I am not, I won't." So I wasn't scared. It wasn't going to be my time. It was pretty freaky how UN-scared I was. I remember standing on the edge of the doorway, about to leap out into space with only some guy I had known for about thirty minutes (and I can't even remember his name) strapped to my back. The guy was even shorter than me and, at the time, probably weighed less than I did. Seriously. How could he save me if we fell? 

     I stared down at the earth waaaay below me and for a brief moment I remember thinking, "What am I doing?" Then the thought was gone. I knew that whatever was going to happen was going to happen and it would be okay. Of course, I could have been crippled for life instead of dying but neither of these things happened. I did toss my huevos rancheros breakfast all over the poor little guy strapped to my back, but I never died. And I would do it again. (Not the barfing part. That's okay, I can skip that step.) But the jumping. The complete and utter silence of the sky above the earth. The peace. The world below. The spinning? Once again, I can skip that part. Happily. But I loved it. And I was never afraid. Not at any moment. 

     So, why be afraid now? WHY? I'm not going to die. I might be briefly heart-broken, disappointed, or even a little humiliated, but I'm not going to die. What am I giving up by taking any chance? I am not a tree. I. Can. Move. I can even fly. What am I afraid of? 

     And do ALL people my age go through this phase? It's not a mid-life crisis. I'm not going to live to be 104. It's not even a 3/4 life crisis. It's me deciding that I don't want a life just spent strolling through casually. I want to end up in my death bed (in about 40 years), telling my grandchildren and great-grandchildren about my epic adventures. How much I lived. And how much I loved. 

     I don't want to reach the end of my life and wish I had done all of the things I always dreamed of doing. I once told someone I was afraid of moving to Italy and they told me that if it doesn't work, you move back. As simple as that. 
     

     Now I don't know if I still want to move to Italy. Okay, fine. I do. Someday. Not right now. Someday. I guess because it doesn't feel like it's time right now. And financially, I am not prepared. When I go, I want to be able to stay as long as my little passport or visa allows. And not starve. So, it's not now. But someday.

    


    Either way, I want to live. I want to be surrounded by family, laugh with my friends, love until I die. And live every single stinking minute as though it is my last day on earth. 
     
     Who's with me? What are YOU afraid of?