“The definition of risk is a situation that exposes you to danger but danger doesn’t always look like we expect.: You could be in danger of falling in love. You could be in danger of having the best ay of your life. You could be in danger of getting everything you want. You could be in danger of laughing so hard it hurts. You could be in danger of finding a person who knows what you’re thinking before you say a word. You could be in danger of loving a song so much you have to sing it out loud, as loud as you can. You could be in danger of opening your heart instead of closing it.” - Risk Magazine
I guess I have always been a risk-taker. I jumped into cold rivers and streams once I made u my mind, I dared to ride wild bulls and cows, I was brave and courageous to a fault, but most of it was heart-stopping although I seldom showed it. I took time, typically, to make up my mind to do something and then I did it. Perhaps impulsivity, but, still, gathering up courage, within, to make some of the decisions I made. I made them and then lived with the consequences. I tended to keep my life interesting, full of adventure, and, yes, many times, there were consequences which I lived to regret but carried on in spite of a few detours. I, sometimes, drug my kids through my decision-making. I always did what I thought was best for us, and did not always tell the kids why I made the decisions I made, until they were older and able to understand more the whys of things. Once the nest was empty, there were less consequences other than to myself.
I would say the biggest risk I ever made, for all of us, was leaving the kids’ dad, and rather than being a burden on society, going to University. That was a huge risk to take, but have to say the gift I gave to all of us. Within all those risks, was reasons and I often kept quiet about reasons, unless I had to absolutely defend myself and my choices.
I can say I was a very independent woman in risk-taking, and I look back at the courage and bravery it took to make some of those risky decisions were most always a risk of faith, not so much in myself, but in life and karma and a belief that if things did not work out, I could adjust and make them right. Many times, I found myself out of my comfort zone. I guess I have not been one who had life be comfort and so I made the best of it most times.
These days, as I age, I seek solace in my comfort zones. Art is a space of comfort I have not found to be filled any other way. Arting is my place of meditation, of prayer, of sorts. Even within that, there is risk-taking. Sometimes I stall and will post, on Facebook, in my group, about how a piece is a WIP (Work In Progress) because I am afraid to risk to complete something beyond the safe place where I think a piece is going well and I am afraid to ruin it. Perhaps life of risk-taking taught me to be more cautious? I have never been a slave to my comfort zones. No, for sure, I have not.
Once I created drama in order to get things done. I would invite people over for dinners and a visit just to energize myself enough to get things drone. Now, I rebel against any drama and chaos and reasons to HAVE to get things done. Perhaps being at |University and having those serious deadline papers due dates helped to instigate reasons to do that, but I have grown weary of deadlines and HAVE TOs. Way too much anxiety and inability to have the energy to push past deadlines now. I have learned to give myself permission not to take risks.
Physical limitations are teaching me about risk-taking now, as well. Logically so. I do not take risks with falling. I do not put myself in risky emotional situations. I am more careful with self. Loss and death of a sweetheart taught me to be gentler with myself and not count on anyone any more, except a select few. Even friendships have become risky as I experienced betrayal. I am more careful about sharing too much of myself even in family situations. My old “do it yourself, and me against the world” has reared its ugly face. I am more careful about other things as well. I even fell myself pulling away from spirituality, of group spirituality, since I know one cannot lean on others setting examples of how to lie a spiritual life. The frailties of being human and being spiritual has to be kept personal and never borrowed from someone else’s spiritual playbook. I never risk my spirituality that way either.
I am less risk-taking with my self-confidence and my sense of “I am not enough – but I am still a work in progress”. I still venture out and try new things. In fact, I am known, now, by some as the “4-wheeling grandma” because |I dared to do some four-wheeling for our lapidary field trips into the high mountains and roads some would fear to tire-tread. I still find ways to push my boundaries so I do not become bored and too sedate. I still need to be physically, intellectually, emotionally and spiritually stimulated and active. Boredom would be the death of me, I am sure.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the comfort and safety of doing things in my comfort zone. I enjoy being alone. I enjoy doing nothing all day but art and a few things I love doing that are comfortable because they are known. But, still, my gypsy mentality and my adventurous spirit still peeks in over a horizon and I am wont to just jump in and give something a try. I still live with consequences, of course, but now some of those adventures could be life-threatening and I am very away that risk-taking has its age limits.
I am not a sedentary person, nor ever meant to be. I will still push boundaries of age and limitations because that is part of who I am. I will still find new ways of doing old things, changing things up, and risk-taking in smaller events than ever before, but still, I need to know I am still courageous and brave and have it in me to take them. I am not one to enjoy inertia, so you will always find me trying to up an ante because, as I said, boredom would be death to me.
How do you risk-take as you age?
©Carol Desjarlais 25.10.20
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