Whenever people say to me, “Wouldn’t it be great to drop everything and just go on an adventure?”, I always wonder what kind of adventure they mean.
Depending on how old you are, an adventure can suggest a myriad of things.
For young kids, an adventure could be as simple as a trip to the zoo for the first time. Or it could be a camping trip.
For older kids, an adventure could be the first time away from home on a school trip. Or it could be sneaking into a movie above their age rating.
For adults, an adventure could be role-playing with your partner. Or it could be as simple as trying something new, like naked pottery.
(I’m not even sure there is such a thing, but I’d imagine it’d be quite the adventure if there is)
The point is, the word adventure means so many things to so many people, that it’s hard to say, “Yes!” when asked the question at the start of this post.
After all, what if your take on adventure is a world away from mine (and vice versa)? It wouldn’t be an adventure as much as it’d be an experiment in keeping a calm demeanour.
But perhaps we’re asking the wrong question – perhaps, instead of an adventure, we should be approaching it in a completely different way.
The Ineffectiveness of Suggestion
I get it. The allure of dropping everything to do something adventurous and wild is appealing. But is it really?
How many times has someone said to you, “My life is so boring. I wish it was more adventurous/fulfilling/exciting” (delete where applicable)?
I’m going to hazard a guess a few times. Let’s face it, we all do it and we all hear it.
If it’s not us complaining, we’re the recipients of someone else in the complaining hat.
That’s natural. No-one has the perfect life. No-one.
Sure, some lives might look perfect, but you only have to look at the sadness of those who appear to have a perfect life to know that nothing is what it seems.
So when someone says to us, “Let’s drop everything and have an adventure!”, we smile, and wish, and dream – because for a small moment in time, we can forget the imperfect life we lead.
But it’s an empty suggestion – because more often than not, that’s all it turns out to be.
Something we’ll smile and validate with a nod – but the nod is the only action we’ll take.
Instead, we continue with our lives, and the adventure dies another inglorious death.
Try Blowing Whisky From Your Arse
Now, before I continue, I just want to lead with the caveat that I have never – at least to the best of my recollection – blown whisky from my arse.
There have been times after a night of whisky that I’ve felt I could fire some straight from my arse, but that’s something different altogether.
That’s beside the point, though. The real point is, if we truly want to have an adventure, we need to make it a real adventure.
We need to feel the thrill of something so real, something so alive, that we will never forget it in a lifetime of forgotten memories.
We need to feel.
It doesn’t have to be ridiculous, either.
- Kiss your wife/husband/partner like the first time you felt the heat, the one that’s still there, it’s just on mute;
- Buy the stupidest winter hat and wear it with a “Fuck yeah!” smile, and own that piece of stupid wool right there;
- Get shit-faced and then record yourself on your phone camera, and plant the honest seeds of who you want to be if no-one was to stop you.
None of these are unattainable. None of these are too far a bridge to cross. None of these are super outrageous.
But, much like blowing whisky out your arse is sure to make you feel alive, so can these and others like them.
And if they help you find the next adventure that you really want to go on… wouldn’t that be a trip?