I am one of those people that worry about things entirely too much. Some times it’s a good thing; because it keeps me cautious and more aware of my actions and reactions. However, some times though it’s not really such a great thing. When you allow yourself to be consumed with worry a lot of times it prevents you from enjoying life. I have missed out on a lot of opportunities to have fun with my friends or my children because I worried so much about making a fool out of myself or basically killing myself in the process of whatever it was they were doing.
Well this year I have tried to take a different approach on life. I’m edging closer and closer to 50 and I have realized there are A LOT of things that I haven’t done in life. Some of those things I think can be negotiated if someone pushes hard enough and then there are some things I’m quite certain that no amount of money will persuade me to do them.
I have a horrible phobia of high places; so therefore roller coasters, sky diving and bungee jumping are pretty much excluded off the “I really want to try this and think I might” list. But the other things that are on my bucket list of things to do before I pass on are things that I am mustering up the courage more every day to do.
This past week we received an unexpected and welcomed snow to our area. With that snow comes the town tradition of closing off what we local natives refer to as "Schoolhouse Hill". It's a huge hill right in the middle of the town and when it snows people come out by the droves to sled off of it. Both kids and adults wear this hill out sledding off of it in everything from real sleds to car hoods and cooler lids - anything that they can improvise with. The sides of the hill are worn down from the endless amount of journeys back up the hill on foot dragging your "ride" behind you.
I had never sledded off this hill all the years I had been growing up or even as an adult. So....after a little (well maybe a lot) of persuasion I bundled up in as many layers of clothing as I could and headed up there to try it out. Now one thing about me is I love to have fun - BUT when it involves the remote possibility of a broken limb....well I'm a little chicken. As I stood up at the top of the hill looking down I swear it looked 2 miles long! But after a little coaxing and a bit of praying for courage and a safe landing I hopped on the sled. After we took off and headed down the hill [at what seemed like 90 mph] I was horrified and I screamed to the top of my lungs and held on for dear life. And when we reached the bottom I couldn't believe it - I was ready to go again. After a few more times we wrapped it up and went in. The next night we were back out there again. This time I rode with a couple of my girlfriends for most of the rides. We crashed every time and were battered on every part of our bodies and I even peed my pants a time or two I hate to admit. But we kept on going and I don't remember ever laughing so much in a long time.
I was so glad that I took the chance, let go and just had some fun. I'm not sure what I enjoyed more the exhilaration and thrill of the ride or if it was leaving behind adulthood and all the worries that go with and just being a kid again. I think that is the hardest part of being a grown-up. We forget what life is really about - it's not the bills, the jobs that we may or may not like, the everyday struggles...life is meant to be enjoyed. It's meant to play and for that brief time that old schoolhouse hill was my playground.
One of my favorite quotes is "A child who does not play is not a child, but the man who does not play has lost forever the child who lived in him." ~ Pablo Neruda
I need to remind myself more everyday that it's alright to not always be a grown-up, that it's fine not to worry and that it's okay if I want to play because like someone else once said "you will find more happiness growing down than up."
The weatherman says it might snow again next weekend. If it does I'm heading out to play and I'm leaving all my worries on top of Schoolhouse Hill for a little while.
