Here’s a secret for ya: I’m not big into New Year’s Resolutions.
The main reason is that I forget to make them until several days or weeks after New Year’s, and by then, it’s just a regular day’s resolution and not a New Year’s one.
So, what’s the point.
Plus, all those resolutions about losing weight, quitting smoking, reading the Bible every day, eating more vegetables like cauliflower and broccoli or “learning to laugh more” (seriously, we didn’t have to learn to laugh, we laughed as babies and if babies can do it, I’m pretty certain it’s a skill that came with the body we were given and not an art form we had to learn) and “not being as negative” are all resolutions aimed at what we SHOULDN’T do.
But this year, I decided to make resolutions… but they really aren’t resolutions, so maybe I shouldn’t call them that. I decided to make the “Heide’s Year of Living Fearlessly List.”
Does it really matter what I call it? Does calling it “Heide’s Year of Living Fearlessly List” instead of “resolution” change it? If I called a peach pie a “dancing monkey” instead, would it leap off my kitchen counter and start banging a couple of cymbals together while throwing poop at me?
According to quantum physics – that spooky little science that’s more like wizardry than E=MC2 – yes. But, I digress. We’ll get to quantum physics in another raving.
That list has 40 things I MUST do this year in my quest to be more fearless, or at least more interesting to myself. I’ll get to that list in a later post, but a few of mad ideas include 1. Going to Africa and not getting eaten by lion, which apparently happens in a distrubingly common basis in Tanzania; 2. Go out onto the ocean… way out, so you can’t see land and all the fishies in the world are around you; 3. Try kickboxing… you get the picture.
Also, I made a promise to do something completely new EVERY DAY… or, when I’m feeling lazy and my body is bloated with procrastination, at least EVERY WEEK!
One day, I tried a new yoga style. I discovered that while I am pretty dern good at yoga for a newcomer, I cannot yet bend over, place my knees on the back of my elbows and hold myself suspended in the air for more than about 10 seconds. I want to do at least a minute.
I’ve also learned that the “Happy Baby” move is a little obscene and it never fails that one of my two male roommates always walks in while I’m laying on my back with my knees at my ears trying to pull my legs farther down on either side of my face by pullin on my feet.
I get a mixed reaction from “da boyz.” Sometimes they just blurt out “Jesus Christ, Heide!” and promptly leave the room. Sometimes they just stare at me in that way guys do when they’re faced with something sexual from someone they view as a non-sexual creature.
I think it confuses them. They usually go drink beer and fart at each other to figure it out.
Another day, I tried Pho, which I’ve learned is pronounced “fuh,” like the first part of the f-bomb. It was delicious.
I also tried ice-skating. I’m damn near 40 years old, and I’ve never been ice-skating. Two hours later – and two soul-jarring wipeouts on the ice – I ended up with sore ankles, a bulging knot on my knees and a big ol’ smile. I enjoyed it. I think I could get pretty good at ice-skating if I stuck with it, which I won’t.
Today, I have no idea what new thing I’m going to do. Believe it or not, folks, it’s pretty hard to find something completely new to do every day.
The big cheat is to turn to food and drink, to proudly announce “I’ve never had marmalade-covered goat balls grilled over hickory” and then promptly eat it and call that the new experience. (Which I would never do as I have a rule not to eat anything that comes in an animal’s head or between it’s legs)
Alas, sometimes, that’s all you have for the day. A new food or a new drink or a new recipe. Or a new little trick in the bedroom, if you get my drift, but this isn’t that kind of blog, so I’m not going into details about that… though, I gotta say, “HOT DAMN!”
Not every day can be filled with ice-skating, obscene yoga poses, zombie movie extra, zip lining in jungles or snorting wasabi.
Like life, living fearlessly is many times fearlessly getting through the day-to-day mundanity that makes up the hours in which we live. Maybe living fearlessly is finding new ways to create magic and wonder out of the day-to-day mundanity.
Maybe it’s being so aware of living in the present that you can find the astonishment that may lay behind the hedge or beneath that old chap’s hat who’s sitting in front of you or even while driving south on Western from the Kirkpatrick Turnpike.
HEY! THERE’S A DEER ON WESTERN IN BROAD DAYLIGHT!!!!
Anyway, this year, I’m committing to writing every day. This blog included. I’m committed to trying something brand new EVERY DAY (or at least EVERY WEEK when I’m feeling lazy). I’m also going to share some great stuff about living the fearless life, learning to live the non-conformist life and the surprisingly hard work it is to do both.
Because, sometimes, you've just got to grin at a male stripper's butt.
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