Embracing an Adventurous Life

Ever since I was a kid, I always thought of myself as an adventurer. I can thank my parents’ extensive stash of National Geographic magazines. These expired bundles, often carefully tied with twine and stored in the basement, longingly waited for me to peel them open. They were my ticket to places far and wide. Where would I go today? Would I harvest vanilla bean pods in Madagascar? Camp with penguins in the Antarctic? The adventures were endless and so was my imagination.

Feeling inspired, I spent summers in “the woods,” a sliver of wild, tangled trees on my otherwise quaint suburban street. The neighborhood kids and I would gather here and build forts made of sticks or whatever discarded boxes were available. Smartphones were all but zygotes in this bygone era. Fun was taping old baseball cards to the spokes on our bikes and buzzing down the hill, our shrieks of laughter momentarily silencing the crickets. We were a swarm of sun-ripened suburban kids on OG scraper bikes.

Autumn was tinted a shade of warm comfort, leaves somersaulting in the wind. Weekend adventures meant a trip to the apple farm and cider mill. The unspoken rule was that you had to eat at least one apple from the tree before leaving the farm. It wasn’t much of a challenge, you see. The apples, still warm from the sunshine, tasted like heaven.

As autumn gave way to winter, the first snowfall was ever so silent and always a surprise. What did the snow whisper to the trees and grass that they accepted it so readily? Did the trees feel the same way come February? My troop of friends carefully prepped our red, plastic drugstore sleds waxing them with Crisco for extra speed. No need to wait for the perfect set, we just went for it. We finished the day when our snow-crusted scarves were stiff from the cold.

Spring shed its overcoat to reveal a confetti-studded dress the color of happily ever after. “We conquered another winter of Nor’easters!,” my friends excitedly proclaimed. We compared our scars, tattoos that marked a previous season of adventures. Where would our adventures take us this year? Afternoons baking on the docks of the Finger Lakes? Or would Nat Geo take us rafting on the Amazon in search of lost civilizations?

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Little did I know how these seasons of adventures would shape my life. Many moons later, I’ve continued collecting these moments like smooth pebbles on the beach. Sure, the adventures have changed depending on milestones – like moving to Boston and eventually NY. Dropping a professional career and going back to school after already completing a bachelor’s degree. Moving to LA on a shoestring budget. Being in a relationship for more than 8 years…and then not. Each adventure became a story in my own version of National Geographic. I may not have been exploring the Serengeti but nights spent bartending and days on walkabout in the city (because let’s face it there’s only one city) were no small feat.

And I’ve had my fair share of misadventures. Every explorer stumbles on the trail and that’s okay. Misadventures have helped me figure out what I really want. I dreamt of being a VP in public relations by the time I was 27. I know, I know. Misadventures. I’m no longer in pursuit of a VP or chief of whatever title. What I realized through all these adventures is that I’d rather be a pioneer of my life. Now that’s a title I could get used to! A life based on doing what I love, learning new things and trusting my intuition to take grand leaps of faith to help me grow and feel more empowered. I’m over the business of basing my life on what I “should” be doing to please others and conform to society’s milestones.

Even when I’ve had a rough go of things and thought I took the wrong path, made the wrong decision or took a spill…I’m always gently reminded that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be – right here, right now. Nor is it one moment or season in time that defines my character but it’s the collection of these adventures – the messy ones, the beautiful ones, and knowing that some-how I’ll make it out of the woods stronger than I was before.

So here I am now, one month into a new year and 8 months after starting my adventure of becoming a freelancer. Admittedly, I hadn’t really mapped out all the details but I just knew things would work out. And they have! Thanks to intuition and paying attention to signs from the Universe. Maybe I’ll be eating ramen noodles next month but it doesn’t mean that I’m a failure. I’m a pioneer after all, I’ll steer the course and it’s better than a year full of “somedays.”

Stayed tuned for more exciting developments…